


Triumph Through Ruin

by leftturns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Hermione and Ron are jerks in the beginning, Horcruxes, Jealousy, Kinda, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Romance, but they'll come through, voldemort - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2019-11-21 12:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18142148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftturns/pseuds/leftturns
Summary: Harry Potter’s life is like a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. No matter how many good beans he gets in a row, there’s always going to be something vile breaking his streak.This story starts in the middle of The Goblet of Fire, but does not completely follow the original plot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so I'm sorry for any mistakes made. Constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Tags and/or characters may be added during the progression of this fic.

While it’s true that most people would do anything to be the exception, to be the one that rules are easily bent for, that doesn’t mean that they  _ understand _ . They don’t understand the weight that comes along with being the one person that everyone turns a blind eye to, or being the one that people look up to as though I’m some kind of deity that never can never make mistakes.

Being constantly shoved into the spotlight isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially when I didn’t really do anything to earn the attention in the first place. It’s difficult and positively annoying to have adults praise and bow to me -a child- as though I actually  _ meant  _ to destroy a bloody dark lord at the age of one.

Let’s not forget that the moment I do something that any normal child would do, it’s splashed across the front pages of any and every wizarding newspaper as ‘shocking headline news’. Sure they think it’s flattering, but in all actuality, it’s practically invasive. No one needs to know about who I apparently fancy or what I ate for breakfast yesterday morning. It’s embarrassing.

I don’t need or want the attention, but it’s become apparent that I don’t get a say in the matter. The past three years at school have been frustrating, to say the least, but that doesn’t mean that every year has to be. 

Right?

This year has been quite normal so far, all things considered. It’s been almost  _ too  _ normal. I keep expecting the Dark Lord to show up as an evil piece of fruit or another teacher, but my best friends say that I’m just being paranoid. I can’t help that I’m just waiting for the shoe to drop.

I’ve been antsy all year, just waiting for something to happen that I’m sure will be just about any day now.

With all the students gathered in the Great Hall, the general chatter and noise have my nerves buzzing. But whether it’s from excitement or anxiety, I’m not sure. Today just feels like it’s going to be one of those days.

The Great Hall exploded into cheers, snapping my attention back to the scene before me. The third and final champion for the Triwizard Tournament had been chosen, and I cheered along with the rest of my schoolmates as Cedric Diggory, the Hogwarts champion, walked onto the platform and disappeared behind the curtains to join the other two champions.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, started giving a speech to the remainder of the three schools once the noise level had died down. His cheerful voice cut off suddenly, however, as the Goblet of Fire flared to life once again. A fourth slip of parchment shot out of the cup, and Dumbledore carefully reached out and snagged the parchment out of the air. The students and staff were all eerily silent as Dumbledore stared at the name written on the the slip.

Finally, the Headmaster looked up and immediately locked his gaze onto mine. I froze in place, not even daring to breathe as I stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the tattered piece of parchment in his hand.

Floor, meet shoe.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and read aloud, “Harry Potter.”

***

Harry Potter was one word away from throwing a tantrum that would’ve put Dudley Dursley to shame. It wasn’t enough that he got thrown into a deadly tournament against his will, oh no. It wasn’t even the fact that the whole school thought that he cheated and somehow got past the Age Line that Dumbledore himself had created to slip his name into the Goblet of Fire and remain un-bearded. 

No, it was the fact that Harry’s best friend in the entire school -one of the only two people that he could wholeheartedly count on- thought he was lying.

Bloody hell, Hermione had even said that she could tell Harry didn’t do it based solely on the way he reacted when his name was called! Of all the times for Ronald Weasley to decide that he didn’t need to trust Hermione, it had to be now? Of course, Hermione said that Ron was just jealous because Harry always got all the attention, but that’s not Harry’s fault, now is it? 

After being ignored or glared at by Ron for the past three days, Harry was sick of it. He’s taken to stalking the halls of Hogwarts during his free periods and between classes just to avoid being in the dorms on the off chance that Ron was there. Hermione still talked to him for the most part, when she wasn’t following Ron around because he apparently needed the attention and assurance more than Harry did. Sure, Harry understood that Ron was bothered by being cast aside time and again due to Harry’s fame, but that didn’t mean that Harry could shoulder this all by himself. He’d been thrown into a tournament that would most likely kill him, for Merlin’s sake! He had every right to want his friends there with him.

“Wonder how much Ron’ll care once I get my neck snapped during the first task,” Harry grumbled under his breath, stomping through the doors and onto the grounds..”Sure he’d  _ love  _ to take my place in this stupid tournament then.” 

Harry was snapped out of his brooding by a voice that immediately sent his temper flaring.

“Are you talking to yourself, Potter? It’s a shame the old bat is actually letting you compete. There should be a rule about letting someone mental represent our school,” Draco Malfoy sneered as he approached, flanked by his two goons. 

Harry’s nostrils flared as he glared at the blond in front of him, a vicious sort of excitement racing through his veins. Yes, a fight is exactly what he needed right about now. Something to make him forget about his idiotic red-headed friend.

“You’re a lot of talk, Malfoy,” Harry said quietly as he took a step forward, green eyes bright and voice laced with venom. “I bet you wouldn’t  be brave enough to even  _ attempt  _ to compete.You;d probably write a letter to you daddy, begging him to pull every string he can to get you out of it so that you don’t chance damaging your pretty little face.” Harry mocked, watching the blond’s lip curl in disgust.

“Don’t you dare talk about my father,” Malfoy spat, face twisting in anger as he pulled his wand out of his sleeve. “You’re nothing but a disgusting half-blood who’s going to get himself killed within the first ten minutes of the first task.”

The laugh that escaped Harry’s lips was harsh and derisive as he whipped his own wand out and leveled it at Malfoy. 

“I’m going to win this tournament, Malfoy, whether you get half the school cheering for my death or not.”

Harry was preparing to cast a shield on himself as Malfoy raised his wand, when a flash of red off to the side caught his eye. Ducking out of the way on instinct, Harry neatly dodged the spell that Malfoy had thrown at him before his gaze zeroed in on Ron, who just glared at him before shaking his head and looking away.

Already livid, Harry raised his wand and shot the strongest stinging hex he could at the red-head before realizing what he was doing. Ron fell forward with a yell when the hex connected with the back of his knee, and Harry froze.

Quickly spinning around with his wand raised, Harry glared at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle before taking in their gobsmacked expressions. Malfoy had his wand hanging limply at his side as he continued to look from Harry to Ron, eyes wide and questioning. When he realized that Harry was glaring at him however, he straightened his shoulders and nodded once before spinning on his heel and walking away, Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him.

Glancing back over at Ron, who was lifting himself up off the muddy grass with a look of pure disdain, Harry was almost shocked to find that he didn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse for his friend. The boy had ignored him for days, acting as though everything was Harry’s fault and not caring how turning his back on Harry had affected him. If Ron would have just  _ listened  _ to what Harry had to say in the first place, then they wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. But they were, and Harry had just hexed his first friend face first into the mud. Suddenly exhausted, Harry sighed and continued on the path towards Hagrid’s hut, hoping that maybe the half giant could cheer him up.

***

“Harry James Potter! Just  _ what  _ do you think you’re doing?” Hermione’s shrill voice cut through the noise in the corridor as she barreled through the clusters of students, stopping directly in front of the window ledge Harry was seated on.

“Looking out the window?” Harry replied, leaning his head back against the cool glass to look at her face. Taking in her pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows, Harry inwardly sighed as he mentally prepared for a lecture.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about! Hexing him? Really? I have half a mind to report you to McGonagall myself! What were you possibly hoping to accomplish? Ron’s even more angry at you than before!” Hermione’s nostrils flared as she glared sternly down at Harry, the students in the corridor all quiet as they crowded around the two of them.

“Good!” Harry snapped, fed up. “Let him be angry, I don’t care! Go ahead and report me while you’re at it. S’not like it’ll make a difference, anyway. I always get away with everything according to Ron, remember? I’m sure he’d love to have something else to blame me with. Not like he cares, right? He’s just my  _ sidekick _ .” Harry spat, glaring heatedly up at the bushy haired girl. “He can take my place in this bloody tournament for all I care. Not like he’d live through it himself, anyway.” Standing up, he pushed himself past Hermione before walking away.

“Harry!” Hermione called angrily, reaching out and grabbing his arm to stop him. “What has gotten into you? You have no-”

“I have no what, Hermione?” Harry cut her off, his voice loud and harsh. “I have no reason to be angry because my best friend turned his back on me? I have no right to be mad at you for wanting to have this conversation in the middle of the corridor? I have no  _ friends  _ anymore?” He spat, causing her to flinch. “You’re probably right. It’s always been you and him, hasn’t it? Ron turns his back, and you follow him like a lost crup. Never mind the fact that  _ I’m  _ the one that was thrown into these stupid tasks against my will.  _ Ron  _ got his feelings hurt, and that’s all that matters, right? Better go run to your Weasley before he cries himself to sleep.” Twisting his arm out of her grip, Harry spun on his heel and pushed his way through the crowd. He ignored Hermione’s tear-filled calls as he stalked towards the entrance to the castle.

The corridor was filled with excited chatter from the students as they all started to disperse, and Harry ignored them all until a haughty voice filtered through the buzz. 

“Leave him, Granger. Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage to your  _ friend _ ?” Malfoy’s patronizing voice was cold enough to freeze the lake over, and the only sound louder than the Slytherin’s laughter was the sound of Hermione’s sobs echoing off the walls. 

Shaking his head, Harry stepped out of the castle and walked towards the Great Lake to clear his mind.

***

Classes the next week were awful. Not only were both Ron and Hermione refusing to so much as even acknowledge his presence, no one else was really talking to him either. Some students were shooting him pitying glances when they thought he wasn’t looking, and most of the other Gryffindors were following Ron and Hermione’s lead. The strangest part was that no one was even attempting to speak to him, even to pick a fight or taunt him. It was bloody annoying. The only students that didn’t seem to have a grudge against him were Fred and George Weasley, and seeing as they were a year above Harry, they weren’t in any of his classes. Harry was stuck either sitting by himself, or sitting next to somebody that pretended he wasn’t there.

Friday night found Harry sitting on the parapets of the Astronomy Tower, morosely staring at the cloudy sky, watching the shadows of owls flying to and fro. He was contemplating the life of an owl, how it might feel to be free from responsibilities and the stupidity of students when the echo of footsteps behind him made him freeze.

“Planning on offing yourself before the first task has even began? And here I was hoping that I’d make at least a few Galleons from the bets I’ve placed.”

Sighing, Harry nudged his trainer on part of the railing, not even bothering to turn around. “What do you want, Malfoy?” His voice sounded quiet and defeated to his own ears, but he didn’t even care at this point. What was the worst that could happen, anyway?

“I tend to come up here when I find the Slytherin dorms to be lacking the silence I need to concentrate. Why are you here?” Malfoy’s footsteps got closer to the rail, but thankfully he kept himself at a distance.

“Opposite problem, I guess,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Or hadn’t you noticed that the entire school seems to think I’m a pariah?”

Malfoy hummed. “I have, but I figured that you’d be used to this kind of treatment by now.”

Harry barked out a harsh laugh. “Sure, but normally I have Ron and Hermione right alongside me. This time they seem to be leading the masses.”

“The Weasel wouldn’t know how to handle attention if the Mudblood made him a step-by-step guide,” Malfoy sneered, glaring up at the dark shapes flitting across the sky.

“Don’t call them that,” Harry sighed, leaning his head against the wall.

Malfoy’s grey eyes widened as he turned his head towards Harry. “Oh, come on Potter, put your heart in it! I’m sure you can get angrier than that.” 

Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get mad about it when I have a proper reason to. The defense is just a habit at the moment, so rest assured you won’t get hexed off the edge of the tower.”

“I’m pretty sure there are enchantments in place to keep students from falling off the ledge anyway,” Malfoy pointed out, slightly jutting his chin proudly towards the sky.

“And I’m pretty sure that it doesn’t matter, unless you plan on hexing me off the edge yourself.”

“And chance losing my bets? Not on your life, Potter.”

“Isn’t my life what your bets are on in the first place?”

“Touche`,” Malfoy’s tone was full of amusement as he shook his head, his white-blond hair fluttering softly in the breeze.

_ Huh _ , Harry thought. Who would’ve thought that he’d actually manage to have a civil conversation with Draco Malfoy on top of the Astronomy Tower? Stranger things have happened, he supposed. Like his best friends abandoning him. Sure, he may have been a bit batty, but could either of them really blame him?

“You should probably head back soon, it’s close to curfew,” Harry said, glancing towards Malfoy.

“And you shouldn’t?” Malfoy quirked a pale eyebrow in Harry’s direction as he lightly drummed his fingers against the parapet.”Oh sorry, I forgot. You get away with everything, don’t you? Won’t even get a slap on the wrist for being out past curfew.” Malfoy shook his head and pushed himself away from the tower ledge.

“Actually, I won’t get a slap on the wrist because I won’t be getting caught,” Harry shot Malfoy a crooked grin before jumping off the railing.

“How do you figure that?” Malfoy crossed his arms and smirked. “I could go alert a teacher that you’re running about the castle.”

“And get yourself in trouble again as well?” Harry snorted. “No, I have a few valuable tools at my disposal that almost completely guarantee that I won’t run into anybody.”

“What tools are those?”

“Not important.” Harry laughed as he made his way to the stairwell.

“Of course not.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms, but made no move to follow. “Oh, and good luck in the tournament, Potty. I plan on buying myself a new broom from the gold I make.”

“Wow, thanks,” Harry shook his head in amusement as he walked down the metal stairs as quietly as he could. At the bottom, he snuck into the nearest alcove and covered himself with his invisibility cloak pulled out the Marauder’s Map.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Harry murmured, touching the parchment with his wand and checking his surroundings.

When Harry was about halfway back to Gryffindor Tower, he glanced back at the map again and saw two names hiding on the third floor. Deciding to take a detour, Harry went down the next flight of stairs and came to a silent stop outside the statue of the One-Eyed Witch.

“ _ Dissendium _ ,” Harry whispered, quietly walking into the passage to sneak up on the students lurking a bit further down the tunnel.

“-he never said that we couldn’t,” the first voice spoke.

“Yes, but we weren’t given express permission either,” the second student said.

“You know what that means?”

“Why of course, I do!”

Harry took a few silent steps closer during the exchange. 

“I want to know what it means,” he said, laughing as the twins both spun around aimed their wands in different directions. Reaching up, Harry pulled the cloak off his head and leaned against the wall. “Well?”

“Why, if it isn’t our wee ole Harry!” George Weasley exclaimed, walking over to sling an arm around Harry’s invisible shoulders.

“Just the boy we were discussing,” Fred Weasley walked to the opposite side of his brother.

“So what’s going on?” Harry asked, grinning.

“We have something to show you that our brother told us about,” George said.

“But you have to stay hidden while we take you to it.” Fred finished.

“That’s not going to be a problem, as you can see,” Harry answered wryly, lips twitching as he fought a smile.

“Of course not! We have absolute faith in you, don’t we Gred?”

“Absolute faith, Forge!”

Harry pulled the hood back up as he laughed and let himself be dragged away by the Weasley twins.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is the second chapter in just as many days, but I plan on spacing the updates out further the deeper into the story I get. Hope you enjoy x

Harry was laying in bed on a Saturday night, failing to fall asleep. Again. It’s only been one day since he had been dragged away with the twins, and had found out about the challenge for the first task.

Dragons. He’s going to have to do.. something with a dragon! Fight it? Kill it? Hug it into submission? Harry didn’t know, but he was absolutely sure that he really wasn’t all that eager to find out.

When Harry got back to the dorms, albeit a bit shaky, he had a fire call with Sirius in the Gryffindor common room’s floo. Seeing his godfather did help to ease Harry’s nerves a bit, but stupid Ron just  _ had  _ to come down the stairs right before Sirius could tell Harry what to do. Of course, Ron just got angry that Harry was ‘hiding something’ from everyone again, but that isn’t even true. Harry can’t be keeping secrets from anyone if nobody is even talking to him!

The part that really rankled was that Ron was there. He was  _ there  _ last night and saw the dragons for himself right alongside his brothers, and didn’t even bat an eye. Course, he’d probably be a tad bit more weary if he was the one that had to get face to snout with one in just under two days.

Then to put the icing on the cake, Harry had approached Cedric Diggory on the grounds and valiantly tried to tell him what the first task was. So of course Cedric hadn’t believed him. Just fantastic. We’ll see who believes who next time when Diggory gets his bollocks fried off by a bloody dragon. It certainly won’t be Harry’s fault.

Flopping over, Harry attempted to beat his pillow into a somewhat more comfortable shape. When that failed to work for the third time, he growled and rolled out of bed. If Harry was going to be cursed to stay awake for a few more hours, he might as well be awake somewhere that he didn’t have to listen to Ron’s lumberjack impression. 

Retrieving the cloak and map from his trunk, Harry left the dorms to wander the halls. He was thinking about the last time he had been out wandering and ended up on the Astronomy Tower, watching the owls against the grey-black sky, and made a decision to go pay a visit to his lovely owl, Hedwig. She may have been irritated with him for not using her due to discretion with Sirius, but Harry was sure that Hedwig’d forgive him if he gave her a few extra treats to make up for it. An owl is much easier to appease than a jealous and seething teenager, after all. 

Once in the owlery, Harry shucked off his cloak and put it in his pocket with the Marauder’s map, quirking a small smile when Hedwig flew down and gracefully perched herself on his shoulder.

“Hey girl,” Harry murmured, pulling out a handful of treats as the snow owl started nipping affectionately at his ear. Apparently a late night visit was enough to earn her forgiveness.

Gently lowering himself to the ground so as to not upset the bird, Harry offered up his handful of owl goodies, receiving a soft trill of thanks. Harry started talking quietly, dispensing treats in between as Hedwig pecked and groomed tufts of his unruly hair, telling her about his fears and uncertainties with the upcoming tasks. Hedwig was a good listener, remaining on his shoulder in a show of silent and unwavering support long after the pellets ran out, her familiar presence no small comfort. 

Harry talked and talked until his throat was dry and the very border of the horizon gradually lightened from black to deep violets and pinks. His eyes had started getting heavy about an hour ago, but the weight of the owl on his shoulder stopped him. It was nice, being able to just talk without having to worry about upsetting anyone or getting into a fight. Recently, Harry hadn’t even really talked to anyone at all, apart from the twins and Malfoy, which was just plain weird itself. Harry was surprised that it had been a decently pleasant conversation at all; he more or less expected hexes to get thrown the moment his back was turned. It was strange, Harry thought, but certainly not unwelcome. At this point, he’d take all the support and somewhat acquaintanceships he could get. And if Malfoy was the one uncertainly offering the figurative-and-possibly-burning olive branch, then Harry wasn’t going to do something incredibly stupid, like snatch the burning branch away from Malfoy and swat him in the face with it like Harry very well may have done just a month ago.

Remaining on the floor of the owlery with Hedwig tucked into his shoulder, Harry watched the sunrise, feeling more calm than he had since his name got spit out of that stupid cup.

***

Once the sun had fully risen, Harry left Hedwig in the owlery and made his way to the library, determined to cram everything about dragons into his brain before the task the next day. Hiding himself at a table in the back corner of the library, Harry’s view of the entrance was almost completely obstructed by the stacks of old books spread haphazardly around him. Harry was so absorbed in his research that he didn’t even register the sound of footsteps approaching him until they spoke, causing Harry to flinch and almost knock over one of the precariously stacked towers of books.

“There you are, Potter, I’ve been-  _ Salazar _ , is this what you’ve been doing all day?” Malfoy’s tone was incredulous and, glancing around one of the stacks, his eyebrows were nearly up to his hairline.

“Research,” Harry replied, glancing back down and turning a page. “Been looking for me, have you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potty,” Malfoy scoffed, tilting his head back a fraction. “I noticed that you weren’t at breakfast, and just happened to come across you while I was dropping off my books.”

“At the back of the library?” Harry bit back a laugh when Malfoy narrowed his eyes and glared. “So what have you been doing then, if you weren’t looking for me?”

“Ah, yes, I nearly forgot!” Malfoy rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a small sack with a flourish. “I’ve created something that I think you might be interested in,” Malfoy said slyly as he pulled out a small disc and tossed it to Harry..

Catching the object easily, Harry flipped it over to inspect it. It was a badge, he noted as he raised an eyebrow. Across the face in bright red lettering, it said;

_ Support Cedric Diggory - The Real Hogwarts Champion _

“Thanks?” Harry said, staring up at Malfoy in bewilderment.

“That’s not all it does, press it! Go on,” Malfoy flapped his hand and watched eagerly as Harry cautiously pushed his index finger against the badge.

“Oh  _ wow _ ,” Harry laughed, surprised as the badge immediately began shifting from red to green, the wording changing to;

_ Potter Stinks _

“I thought you might enjoy that,” Malfoy smirked, pleased.

“I didn’t know you were a fan of Hufflepuffs, Malfoy,” Harry teased, flipping the badge over idly.

“I’m not, but I’m much less a fan of Gryffindors that let owls roost in their hair. At least Diggory seems to know how to operate a hairbrush.”

Harry just shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. “So how does making a badge have anything to do with you noticing that I’m not at breakfast and then not seeking me out in the corner of the library?”

“I was not seeking you out, Potter,” Malfoy sniffed. “But if you must know, it has  _ everything  _ to do with it. You see,” Malfoy began walking around the table and picked up the first book, intently studying the cover of it as he spoke. “I made far more than just that single badge you have in your hand, solely for the purpose of selling them at breakfast. I sold them for a Galleon a piece, and over half the school bought one- a few teachers, too.” Malfoy smirked at this. “And as I’m sure you’re unaware, Potter, I changed my mind and have decided to place my bets in a different pool. Seeing as there’s a chance to lose in any bet made, I took it upon myself to ensure that I would still have more than I placed and then some. Depending on how your win or loss affects me, I may very well make enough to buy myself that new broom after the first task alone!”

“So, you decided to take advantage of the school-wide hatred against me just to create yourself a safety cushion in case the odds don’t fall in your favour?” Harry snorted. “How Slytherin of you.”

“Exactly!” Malfoy’s lips curled into something almost resembling a smile, but the look was so foreign to Harry that he couldn’t be completely sure. “So why are you in the library scouring through dusty old tomes about dragons?”

“Ah,” Harry grimaced. The badges had distracted him enough that he completely abandoned the book he was looking through. “Dragons.” He nodded.

“Yes, dragons,” Malfoy drawled, eyeing him skeptically. “What about them?”

“That’s the first task,” Harry nodded again, setting the book he held aside in favour of picking up another with a cartoonish picture of a Norwegian Ridgeback on the cover. “Hey, can I keep this badge?” Harry added as an afterthought, glancing over at the flashing green letters.

“You’re kidding!” Malfoy’s eyes were wide before they narrowed suspiciously. “How do you know?”

“I saw them. Charlie Weasley’s a dragon tamer, and he’s brought four of them with him from Romania.” Harry shrugged. The  _ how  _ isn’t really what he’s worried about at the moment. “Can I keep the badge, Malfoy?”

“I don’t care about the badge, Potter! I’m more interested in how you’re going to defeat a bloody dragon!” Malfoy exclaimed, seating himself in the chair adjacent to Harry and glaring at the stack of books before him.

“Cool, thanks. And I really don’t know, but I also don’t know if I have to defeat it either. If I do, then I don’t have the slightest clue how to go about it.” Harry said as he struggled to pin the badge to his robes, causing Malfoy to roll his eyes and knock Harry’s hands aside, easily securing the badge on the cloth. Harry’s cheeks flushed as he awkwardly muttered thanks and turned his head away.

“Well, what have you thought about doing?” Malfoy’s sharp gaze was trained on Harry, and it really didn’t do anything to lessen the burn in his cheeks.

“Running for my life?” Harry joked helplessly, a deep sense of foreboding clouding his thoughts.

“Actually, that may just be dumb enough to work.” Malfoy’s expression was thoughtful, his eyes slightly unfocused as he leaned his head on his hand. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to outrun a fully grown dragon,” Harry said, distracted by just how  _ normal  _ Malfoy looked in that moment when he wasn’t mocking or sneering.

“Who said anything about running?”

“Uh, you did? Just now?” 

Malfoy turned his head to face Harry, his grey eyes intense. “No Potter, you mentioned running. What other modes could you use to escape something quickly?”

“You’re right! I’ll just hijack the Hogwarts Express and take my leave now, shall I? Can’t be any more embarrassing than getting eaten by a dragon in public,” 

Malfoy snorted. “You’re missing the point! What other ways to travel do you have at your disposal that don’t involve stealing a train?” At Harry’s blank look, Malfoy sighed. “Possibly sports-wise?”

“You mean a broom?” Harry’s eyes widened incredulously. “I don’t think that I’ll be allowed to bring a broom with me, Malfoy.”

“No,” Malfoy’s eyes glittered. “But I’m sure you’ll be allowed a wand.”

Without thinking, Harry reached out and pulled Malfoy into a bone-crushing hug.

“Potter!” Malfoy spluttered, pushing at Harry to get him off. 

“Sorry,” Harry released the blond quickly, smiling sheepishly at the exasperated look he received.

“Yes, well,” Malfoy sniffed, straightening his robes. “No harm done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more badges to sell.” He stood, nodding once at Harry before turning away.

“Malfoy,” Harry called quietly. When he turned around, one thin eyebrow arched inquisitively, Harry continued. “I- thank you,”

“You’re quite welcome, Potter. I am curious, though,” Malfoy was watching Harry, his grey eyes intense. “Why’d you want to keep that badge?”

“Oh,” Harry laughed. “I figured that once you sell one to nearly the entire school, I’d like to ruin their fun by wearing one myself. After you’ve gotten your money, of course.” Harry grinned crookedly. “You have until dinner.”

Malfoy laughed unexpectedly, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Harry decided that he liked this side of him. “Sounds like you’ve got a healthy dose of Slytherin in you as well,” he winked and turned away, leaving Harry alone in the library with his face flaming hotter than before.

***

Harry didn’t leave the library until it was time for dinner, and even then he wasn’t all that hungry. There was just something about knowing that he had to face a potentially blood thirsty dragon the next day that dampened his appetite. He had continued to research, because just knowing what he was going to do didn’t help when it came down to a certain species have specific qualities.

Upon entering the Great Hall, Harry was greeted with silence and stares. Then, one by one, students from every house reached up and pressed their badges, displaying the bright green writing of  _ Potter Stinks  _ at him. 

All the eyes on him made his skin crawl, but he was fully prepared for this and tried not to let the stares and mocking laughter dissuade him. As calmly as he could, Harry grinned and reached his hand up slowly, pushing the badge he donned on his own robes. Glancing over at the Slytherin table, Harry saw Malfoy bite his lip on a smile and turn his head away in a failed attempt to hide it. The laughter grew louder and he received a few disbelieving stares as he made his way to the Gryffindor table.

He sat in his usual seat, unperturbed that everyone around him seemed content on ignoring his presence. Putting small portions of meat and veggies on his plate, Harry ate quietly, letting the conversations around him drown out his own thoughts.

He heard rather than saw Ron and Hermione’s furiously whispered conversation, which it why Harry wasn’t surprised when Ron decided to voice his thoughts aloud.

“And why are  _ you  _ wearing a  _ Potter Stinks  _ badge? Hate yourself that much, do you?”

Blinking, Harry looked up, taking another bite of his roasted potatoes and chewing thoughtfully before answering. “No, Malfoy gave it to me. I thought it was funny,”

“You know he made them? I’m surprised he didn’t curse it,” Ron’s attempt at a sneer made him look more constipated than angry, but Harry decided not to let the redhead know just how funny it made him look.

“What would he curse me for?”

“Because he hates you probably more than everyone in this school combined?” Ron’s voice was mocking.

Much to Ron’s disbelief, Harry snorted. “No he doesn’t. It wasn’t cursed, I didn’t even bother checking it.”

“What do you mean you didn’t check it? That’s extremely reckless, even for you.” Hermione cut in, sounding both parts concerned and annoyed.

“Because he was holding it in his hand and he had no reason to curse me? He’s making a profit off of me, anyway. Why would he curse me before I’ve even had a chance to compete? I’m not that stupid, Hermione.” Harry’s words had a bitter edge to them as he speared a carrot with too much force.

“No,” Hermione said slowly, her eyebrows raised. “But he could have attempted to curse you in order to make you lose so that he’d win his bet. Did you ever think of that? Honestly,” She shook her head, frizzy brown curls bobbing back and forth.

“Oh come on, Malfoy wouldn’t curse me to make me lose when he’s betting on me winning or not completely failing, anyway.” Harry rolled his eyes, unsure why he was even attempting to prompt the conversation along.

“And he told you that, did he?” Ron’s voice was hard, his blue eyes glaring across the table.

“He did, actually,” Harry smirked. “When he was helping me with research in the library.”

As expected, Ron’s mouth dropped open in shock. Hermione inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring slightly. A fierce burst of excitement made Harry’s blood sing at their reactions. Good, let them be upset.

“So you’re friends with the prat now, are you?” Ron scoffed, pushing his plate away. “Don’t know why I’m surprised, really. Should’ve known you’d ditch us for a poncy Death Eater’s son,”

“ _ Ronald, _ ” Hermione hissed.

“No, Ron,” Harry’s voice was quiet and harsh, hands clenched into fists to keep them from shaking. “ _ I  _ didn’t ditch you for Malfoy. If you recall,  _ you’re _ the one that ditched me! The both of you! Do you think that I wasn’t scared? That I wanted this? I’ve been terrified every bloody day! And when I needed you most, you were the one that turned on me. The both of you did,” Harry turned his gaze on Hermione. “I’m well aware that what I said was harsh, but I don’t regret it nor do I take it back. I’ve been stressed since the moment my name came out of that damned cup; I was bound to snap at any moment, and with you constantly taking Ron’s side as though he was the one thrown into this tournament was the breaking point. I’m going to get through this with or without you, but I’m not going to be the one begging for forgiveness because I wasn’t the one that decided a bit of jealousy was worth throwing a four-year friendship away over.” Harry shoved his plate away roughly and stood up, turning his back on Ron’s red face and Hermione’s teary eyes as he stormed to Gryffindor Tower.

***

Sprawled across his bed, Harry sighed. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he said at dinner; on the way his first friends were so to turn their backs on him over something he had no control over.

He missed his friends, but he refused to admit that out loud. The thought was only safe inside his head as he burrowed under the covers and hid behind his curtains in the dorm room.

It just bloody well  _ hurt  _ to have the two people he’d be willing to jump in front of an AK for act like he’d brought this upon himself. The fact that Hermione knows that he didn’t enter himself in the Triwizard Tournament and still took Ron’s side is probably what hurts the most. Not even attempting to convince Ron, instead choosing to solely comfort him and tell Harry that Ron feels neglected and needs reassurance. Why couldn’t Ron just tell Harry this himself, instead of hiding it? Harry would’ve understood, to an extent. He knew that Ron was often lost in the shadows of his brothers and wanted recognition and to become something himself, but you’d think that being the Chosen One’s best friend would’ve given him more than he would’ve had if he weren’t friends with Harry at all.

Harry snorted quietly at that thought. He’d willing give away his fame to Ron if he could. Hell, Harry’d probably load it all into a bucket himself and jovially sprinkle it around Ron everywhere they went if it meant that someone who wanted it could deal with it.

Rolling over, Harry settled in for another restless night of sleep as images of dragons and fire flashed behind his closed eyelids.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any mistakes, don't be afraid to let me know! I normally stay up much later than I should when I'm writing, and by the time I'm done with it I can't be bothered to proofread immediately.

Harry did not want to get out of bed. Nope, not happening. Not today. Not when this may very well be the last time he would ever be in his bed, burrowed under the warm blankets into the mattress. He didn’t think that his bed had ever been this soft before, this welcoming and comfortable. It’s ridiculous how much he just realized that he loved his bed, especially the morning of the first task. Harry just wished that he spent more one-on-one time nestled in its soft, downy presence.

Getting out of bed, Harry was completely calm. A few students gave him sympathetic glances as he left the common room, but he largely ignored them. There was no point in pretending to feel sorry for him now. Not when they had shunned him so openly the day before.

He wondered why he wasn’t more afraid. Maybe just knowing that he might not have to deal with everyone’s pitying glances anymore had something to do with it, but he doubted it. Harry was just used to being thrown into dangerous circumstances and having next to no idea what to do. He usually winged it anyway, but it’s different when he doesn’t have Ron or Hermione there to back him up in one way or another. This time he’s completely alone.

Well, no. Not completely alone, Harry thought. He has Malfoy this time, which was a strange thought, but not an unwelcome one. Harry was actually kind of glad that Malfoy’s been the one talking to him instead. He doesn’t fuss over Harry or seem to care about the attention he gathers. Malfoy’s just there. A constant, whether he’s fighting with Harry or against him. Harry’s grateful for that, at least.

Approaching the Great Hall at a slug’s pace, Harry got an idea. This may be the last time he ever ate breakfast with the rest of the students, so why would he want to sit with a group that’s just going to ignore him or glare at him? He didn’t want to argue with anyone today, not if he was going to keep himself from stressing out, at any rate.

Making up his mind, Harry pushed open the large wooden doors of the Great Hall. As the students fall silent, Harry notices the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables are still glaring accusingly at him, although for different reasons. Chancing a glance at Ron and Hermione, they seem to be studiously ignoring him, faces nearly touching their plates in an effort to not look at Harry.

Rolling his eyes, Harry took a deep breath and confidently walked to the Slytherin table. The students were completely silent as Harry stopped behind Malfoy, the other Slytherins eyeing him warily.

“Seat taken, Malfoy?” Harry asked, hoping he sounded as casual as he meant to.

Malfoy seemed to freeze for a moment before slowly turning around, looking up at Harry with wide grey eyes. Regaining his composure, Malfoy cleared his throat delicately and waved a hand carelessly.

“If you insist, Potter.”

Grinning hugely, Harry took the seat beside Malfoy and started filling a plate, much to the confusion and outrage of the rest of the table.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Potter?” Pansy Parkinson sneered, leaning forward, her short dark hair falling in her face.

“Uh, having breakfast? That’s normally what people tend to do at nine in the morning in the Great Hall,” Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice, watching her lip curl.

“Draco, _why_ did you invite him to sit down?” Turning her glare onto Malfoy, Parkinson’s voice lost the previous malice but still contained a pretty sharp edge.

“I didn’t invite him,” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“But you gave him permission!” Parkinson screeched, causing Harry to wince.

“Your point?” Malfoy drawled, smirking.

“You hate each other!”

“Really? I had no idea,” Malfoy said, turning large grey eyes on Harry. “Did you know about this, Potter?”

Harry coughed into his hand to hide his chuckle. “No idea at all, Malfoy.”

Parkinson sat back in her seat with a huff, alternating between glaring at Harry and narrowing her dark eyes at Malfoy.

“So,” Malfoy turned back to his breakfast. “Are you prepared to lose today, Potter?”

“That depends. Prepared to line your pockets today, Malfoy?” Harry’s tone was teasing, the corner of his lips twitching.

“Of course,” Malfoy snorted, shaking his head.

“This is bloody weird,” Parkinson muttered, not taking her eyes off the two boys.

“Wait,” Goyle spoke up suddenly. “Why’s Potter sitting here?”

Harry snorted, looking up at the larger boy.

“Great question, Goyle.” Parkinson sniffed. “Why _are_ you here?”

“I just wanted a place to sit,” Harry shrugged, taking a bite of toast.

“And you couldn’t have sat at the _Gryffindor_ table, with the rest of your goody two shoe tagalongs?”

“Why would I want to sit at a table with a bunch of people that would either glare at me or ignore me? They all hate me right now anyway,”

“Right,” Parkinson raised a neat eyebrow skeptically. “Because you’re not getting that here?”

“No,” Harry laughed. “Clearly, you’re not ignoring me, Parkinson. Besides, I don’t think I’m _completely_ hated here.” Harry smiled, showing too many teeth.

“Really.” She deadpanned.

“Course not. If you did, I’d’ve been hexed about fifty ways to Sunday already. Think of it objectively, Parkinson. Everybody’s going to talk about how the mean old Slytherin’s have finally managed to corrupt Dumbledore’s golden boy.” Harry pointed at her with his fork. “You’ll be the talk of the school in no time. Surely you’d love the attention?”

“That’s not the point!” Parkinson huffed again, finally turning her attention away to the girl sitting next to her.

“Good job,” Malfoy spoke quietly, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten her to drop a subject that quickly before in my life.”

“What can I say?” Harry grinned at him. “I’m just really good at frustrating people.”

“I’ll say,” Malfoy snorted quietly, picking up his goblet.

***

Harry was standing in a large tent with the other champions, completely losing his mind.

Okay, so, maybe the panic hadn’t fully set in yet earlier. Everything still felt far away while he was safely eating breakfast with the Slytherins, but now that he was in this freakishly ugly tent, hearing the roar of the dragon as it was being shepherded Merlin only knows where was starting to have a very negative effect on Harry.

And then, _of course_ , things got worse. Well, as worse as they could get, considering the dragon-related circumstances. Rita Skeeter, a so-called _journalist_ was conducting interviews, and refused to all but focus on anyone but Harry, probably thinking that Harry would skyrocket her articles or some such rot. Whatever, it wasn’t his job to give her a good interview. He may have even gotten a bit snippy with her, but that’s not Harry’s fault, now was it? Harry decided that he was no longer responsible for what came out of his mouth when snooty reporters bothered him when he was having an end-of-life crisis. And if that Skeeter lady decided to write something bad about him then, well, it’s hardly going to damage Harry’s reputation anymore than it already has, right?

The only bright spot before the whole tournament was when while Harry was leaving the Great Hall, Malfoy had followed him and pulled him aside in the corridor. Malfoy hadn’t said much, just stuck out his hand with a very pinched expression and muttered a low _good luck_ , which surprised Harry so much that he didn’t even think twice before taking Malfoy’s hand and dragging him into a swift hug with an equally quiet _thank you_. It seemed to shock Malfoy as well, judging by the way his eyes widened and his cheeks turned a very faint pink. In the end, Malfoy had just nodded and walked away stiffly, and Harry went to join the other champions feeling a bit lighter than he did before.

That lightness was gone now though, blown away by the angry roars bellowed by the dragons just outside the tent.

Harry sat on one of the cots off to the side in the tent, apathetically awaiting his turn to be called. It felt more like a sentence, waiting like a prisoner to be ushered off to Azkaban without a proper trial.

Uncurling his fist slowly, Harry stared down at the miniature figurine of the Hungarian Horntail, the most temperamental and fierce dragon of the four. Of bloody course it was. Nothing in Harry Potter’s life was ever going to be easy, apparently.

Harry didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, staring at the animated dragon crawling around his fingers when his name was announced. He jumped slightly, hurridly stuffing the miniature Horntail into his pocket and made his way to the entrance of the tent.

They were told the task beforehand, that the each needed to secure a golden egg stuffed in a nest full of real dragon eggs with a nesting mother dragon. That’s exactly what he needed, a hormonal angry dragon ready to rip his bollocks off if he got too close. Just perfect.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed open the flap and was greeted with a wide expanse piled with rocks. Fingering the wand in his pocket, Harry carefully edged forward and peered over the boulder to get a better view. Up ahead, he saw the nest, and the snitch-like gleam of the golden egg nestled inside. Stepping around the boulder as quietly as he could, he edged his way into the side of the clearing when he scuffed the toe of his trainer on a loose bit of rocks. Flinching, Harry looked up just in time to see two great black wings rise up before a deafening roar caused the ground to tremble beneath his feet.

Standing as flat against the side of the large rock as he could, Harry took a deep breath and pulled out his wand, channeling as much energy and concentration as he could muster into the spell.

“ _Accio Firebolt!”_ Harry shouted, his voice nearly lost beneath the sounds of the dragon’s feet stomping against the ground.

Harry scanned his surroundings as quickly as he could, but there was no sign of his broom yet. Hoping that it was just distance making it take longer to reach him instead of a failed spell, Harry kept one eye on the dragon, that was rearing its enormous head back.

Eyes widening in fear, Harry dove out of the way and tumbled behind another boulder as the dragon unleashed a blast of fire at the rock he had just been hiding behind only seconds before. Panting, Harry crouched down, preparing to dodge another bout of fire when he heard it; the tell-tale sound of a broom hurtling through the air.

Without taking his eyes off the Horntail in front of him, Harry slowly stuck his hand out and waited, body tensing in anticipation. Sleek wood struck his palm, and Harry lunged upwards, maneuvering the broom beneath him in midair and kicking off the side of the boulder, racing away as the dragon spat another trail of fire after him. Grinning in exhilaration, Harry looked around at the crowd, taking in their stunned and cheering faces with fists pumping the air in excitement.

Harry began circling high above the dragon as it continued to lunge and breathe fire at him, noticing with no small amount of relief that there was a large chain bolted into the ground, keeping the Horntail confined to the arena. Being back on a broom after so long made Harry miss Quidditch; he missed the excitement and freedom of flying, the way all of his fears and troubles just melted away the moment his feet left the ground.

_Actually,_ Harry thought, _this isn’t all that different than regular Quidditch._

Sure, the goal is a large golden egg instead of a snitch, and rather than multiple opponents there was just one. One very large, very scary fire-breathing opponent, but still. Close enough.

“Now, how to get you away from those eggs,” Harry muttered to himself, flying low enough to keep the dragon’s eyes on him, but not close enough to get roasted.

Flying carefully, Harry gradually moved in closer to the dragon, then backed away again. The Horntail’s head followed his every move, chest rumbling loudly over the noise from the stands. If he could get the dragon angry enough, would it chase him to the farthest end of the arena?

Not giving himself a chance to back out, Harry flew up above the dragon and hovered, waiting. The moment the dragon seemed to lose the slightest bit of interest in Harry, he angled his broom down and dove towards the nest. Pulling up and banking hard to the right, Harry barely dodged the flames the dragon had spat at him, rising back up into the sky.

The noise of the spectators was a distant buzz, cheers and shouts all blending together. The announcer was shouting something, but the wind whipping against Harry’s ears drowned it out as he flew behind the Horntail dove down again. The Horntail roared and lunged at Harry again, its thick and barbed tail swinging down on his right side as a hot jet of flames chased him from the left. Without thinking, Harry swerved to the right again and dodged the flames, but the dragon’s tail clipped his left shoulder and knocked him off balance. The crowd shrieked as Harry used the momentum to barrel roll, not paying much attention to the sting in his shoulder. It didn’t seem to be too bad, but that could’ve just been a result from the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Harry righted himself on the broom and took off again, another burst of fire trailing after him. He turned quickly and watched the dragon paw at the ground in frustration, its large teeth gleaming menacingly as it snapped its jaws at him. In an attempt to taunt the dragon away from her nest, Harry began flying towards her. Closer and closer still, swerving this way and that, forwards and back again. Angling lower, then pulling up again as she stretched her long neck towards him.

His tactic seemed to be working; the dragon was stamping the ground in irritation and her tail was twitching. Harry kept his attention on the dragon as he flew around the front of her, dangling himself in front of her invitingly, just slightly out of her reach. The Horntail’s eyes seemed to brighten as she watched him, her bat-like wings twitching.

_Just a little more,_ Harry thought as he flew a few inches closer, now within lunging distance from her gaping maw.

Fed up, the dragon roared and pounced forward, her great black wings extending as she reared up on her hind legs. Taking his chance, Harry dived down as fast as he could, flattening himself against the firebolt as he shot towards the nest before the Horntail had a chance to realize what had happened. Reaching out with his good arm, Harry scooped up the golden egg and pulled up hard, shoulder stinging. The dragon spewed another round of flames at Harry as she roared, watching him circle lazily high above her.

Like a switch had been turned on, the commotion coming from the stands hit Harry full force. The cheers were deafening as the crowd stood up, screaming and clapping. Grinning, Harry flew towards the entrance of the stands, landing gracefully next to Professor McGonagall.

“That was excellent work, Mr Potter.” McGonagall’s eyes were gleaming, mouth tight as she fought a smile.

“Thanks you, professor,” Harry grinned, slinging his broom on his left shoulder and wincing.

“You’ll need to get checked over by Madam Pomfrey before you find out your score.” McGonagall frowned slightly. “I’ll show you to the medical tent, Mr Potter. Come along,” She turned and marched off through the crowd.

“Nice work, Potter,” Moody growled from beside him, his magical eye whirling around.

“Er, thanks professor,” Harry muttered as he spun around and raced to catch up with his head of house.

Inside the tent, Madam Pomfrey bustled about, muttering “Dragons! Honestly..” as she came over and inspected Harry’s shoulder. She made quick work of it, just slathering something on it that stung before sealing it up with a touch of her wand and a spell.

“Now just sit here for a minute, and then you can leave.. I said sit, Potter!” Harry sank back into his cot sheepishly, tapping his fingers against his leg. His body was still humming from adrenaline and sitting still seemed more difficult than facing that dragon.

“Well, look who managed to actually beat their dragon,” a voice drawled from the entrance of his tent. “And escape with- well, with only a scratch.”

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Harry grinned, motioning for the other boy to come fully inside the tent. “I probably wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t have,” he scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned against the other side of the cot Harry sat on. “You know, Bagman said that you got to your egg faster than the other three champions did.”

“Did I really?” Harry sat forward eagerly. “I thought I had taken forever to get that stupid egg.”

“It felt like it took forever,” Malfoy muttered.

“Worried about me, were you?” Harry teased.

“You wish, Potter.” Malfoy’s smile was small but genuine, and it made Harry’s breath woosh out of him.

“I’m just glad this whole ‘dragon thing’ is over with.”

“I am as well. Oh, I forgot to tell you earlier,” Malfoy stuck his hand in his pocket and dug around. “I wrote a letter to my father a few days ago, asking if he knew anything about the previous Triwizard Tournaments that the Hogwarts library may not have accessible to us. Aha!” He produced a slip of parchment and a small book. “He sent this book to me along with this letter. Look,” Malfoy smirked as he handed over the parchment and took out his wand, unshrinking the book before setting it on the cot. “Read it. I’ve marked the section that I’m sure you’ll be interested in.”

Quickly skimming through the letter, Harry snorted. “ _Though I am loathe to admit it, befriending the Potter brat would be a highly advantageous choice for you during your remaining school years. He has quite the reputation, and being seen with him in public would certainly boost yours as well. As long as you refrain from bringing Potter and his ilk to the Manor, I see no immediate issues._ ” Harry looked up, incredulous.

“Keep reading!” Malfoy said, inspecting his nails.

Harry shook his head, but continued. “ _I have sent you my personal copy of_ Treacherous Accounts of the Triwizard Tournaments. _The book goes more in depth of the previous tasks and hints at parallels between them, along with what ideas have yet to be used, but have been discussed before. Be sure that it gets returned to me in the exact condition that I sent it to you in. I don’t think I need to tell you what may happen if it doesn’t._ ”

“You’re kidding,” Harry stated, staring down at the letter in his hands.

“I’m not,” Malfoy said wryly, pushing the book towards Harry.

“He literally sent you a book. To help me.” Harry said in bewilderment.

“Yes?” One thin eyebrow shot up.

“To _use me_?”

“Well. That’s just how father is, really. He favours any decision that could potentially end in some kind of personal gain.” Malfoy nudged Harry over further and sat on the opposite end of the cot, watching Harry warily.

“And you?” Harry asked, eyes challenging.

Malfoy met his gaze, grey eyes unwavering. “I just so happen to _like_ being in your presence, Potter. Don’t ask me why. I just find you entertaining.”

“Is that so?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yes, and if father is appeased by what good it might do to the family name, then who am I to argue?”

Harry snorted. “You’re such a Slytherin.”

“We’ve covered this already, and if I recall correctly, you’re-”

Harry didn’t get to figure out what Malfoy was going to say he was, because that was the moment that Hermione burst into the tent, followed quickly by Ron. Malfoy seemed to freeze and sat up straighter, his face closing off into a cool mask of indifference.

“Harry! You were amazing!” Hermione squealed, her face red and blotchy. “I was so-” She cut off suddenly, seeming to just now notice that Malfoy was in the tent as well.

“Er, thanks Hermione. Really,” Harry rushed out, glancing between the two of them as they glared at each other.

“What in the bloody hell is _Malfoy_ doing here?” Ron bellowed, his face turning as red as his hair.

“I could ask you the same thing, Weasel.” Malfoy sneered, hand twitching towards his wand.

“Harry’s my best mate, ferret face!”

“Oh, really? I never would’ve guessed what with the way you’ve been alternating between glaring at him or completely ignoring him.” Malfoy replied scathingly, jutting his chin out.

“What business is it of yours, what goes on between me and Harry, anyway?” Ron glared daggers at Malfoy, who didn’t even so much as flinch.

“I think that it became my business from the moment that _Harry and I_ ,” Malfoy emphasized, “became friends. No small thanks to you, I gather?” Malfoy’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass, his grey eyes cruel and mocking.

Ron opened his mouth to retaliate, but shut it the moment Hermione placed her hand on his forearm.

“Ron? Maybe we should come back later..” She spoke quietly, as if trying to soothe a Hippogriff.

“Excellent idea, Granger,” Malfoy bit out, not taking his eyes off Ron. “Truly one of your best.”

“Don’t you talk to her like that!” Ron whipped his wand out and aimed it at Malfoy, who levelled his wand back just as fast.

“Oi!” Harry said, annoyed. Standing up, he pushed his way in between the two boys and grabbed each of their wrists, angling their wands down. “Will you cut it out?” He snapped, glaring first at Ron and then Malfoy, who curled his lip and rolled his eyes.

“Just put your wand away, Malfoy. I’ll handle it,” Harry gently squeezed Malfoy’s wrist before letting go, turning his glare full-force on Ron. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?” Harry’s voice was quiet and cold, making Ron flinch involuntarily.

“He started it,” Ron mumbled, lowering his wand as he glared at Malfoy over Harry’s shoulder.

“I don’t care who started the sodding thing, Ron, I’m ending it!” Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “Really! What has gotten into you? Malfoy wasn’t even doing anything wrong- he was just talking to me for Merlin’s sake! _You’re_ the one who started it!”

“So that’s how it’s going to be, then?” Ron stated, voice hard. “You’re gonna take his side?”

“I’m not taking sides!” Harry yelled.

“Course you are,” Ron laughed bitterly. “Can’t believe you’d choose the son of a Death Eater over us. Do you not remember what his father did to Ginny second year? What he’s done to us _every year_?” Ron spat, his voice getting louder with each word.

“Draco’s not his father, Ron.” Harry said quietly, his eyes never leaving Ron’s face. “And of course I haven’t forgotten. How could I have? That doesn’t mean that I have to let it control my decisions. Do you not remember what we’ve done to him as well?”

“So he’s _Draco_ now, is he?” Ron snorted. “Figures.”

“Well what did the two of you bloody expect to happen when you turned your backs on me? That’d I’d continue to wallow in self-pity and loneliness? That I’d let myself get eaten by a dragon because I lost my two best friends? So sorry I became friends with someone that you don’t approve of when you weren’t talking to me.” Harry clenched his fists, temper flaring. “Did you just come in here to pick a fight?”

“Believe it or not,” Hermione interjected quietly. “He came in here to apologize to you.”

“Well he has a funny way of going about it,” Harry said harshly.

“I _am_ sorry, though, mate,” Ron looked down, scuffed the toe of his trainer against the ground. “For the way I acted before.”

Harry suddenly felt extremely exhausted. “Forget it,” he sighed, moving back to sit on the cot with Malfoy standing tensely beside him now.

Ron looked up, alarmed. “But I-”

“ _Forget it, Ron._ ” Harry shrugged at him, leaning forward and resting his head in his palm.

Ron offered a timid smile, and Harry returned it.

“Now get out of here, you two.” Harry said, glancing at the tent entrance. “I’ll see you in the common room tonight for the ‘Harry didn’t get burnt to a crisp’ party.”

Ron shook his head in amusement before dragging Hermione out by the arm, her face shocked and confused.

“So,” Malfoy started. “You’re going to forgive them? Just like that?”

Harry snorted. “Hell, no. They’ll definitely have to work for it, but if it keeps them from looking like someone’s killed their favourite crup, then it’ll do for now.”

“Of course,” Malfoy chuckled slightly, leaning back against the wall. “I… Thank you,” he murmured, so quietly that Harry wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

“For?”

Malfoy swallowed roughly, picking at invisible lint on his trousers. “For what you said, to him. About me.” Glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye, he continued. “Not very many people think that way.”

Harry frowned. “But you’re not your father. At least, I don’t think you are. Is your first name Lucius?”

“Middle name, actually.”

“Oh Merlin,” Harry laughed. “It fits well together though, doesn’t it? Draco Lucius Malfoy,”

“Like you’re one to talk! Harry James Potter,”

Harry laughed harder, leaning back against the wall and bumping his shoulder against Malfoy’s.

“Come on, Potter,” Malfoy chuckled and stood, extending his hand out to Harry. “We’ve got your scoring to listen to.”

Harry took the extended hand and stood up, groaning as he stretched his tired muscles. “You know, I’m surprised- what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Malfoy said quickly, cheeks pink as he turned away and walked to the entrance flap. “You were saying?”

Confused, Harry followed him. “You’re sure?” At Malfoy’s glare, Harry held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I was just saying that I’m surprised that nobody came in to see what all the shouting was about. Oh! Did you get the book and your letter?”

“They probably heard enough and decided that they didn’t want to get into the middle of whatever was going on in there,” Malfoy chuckled. “And yes, I grabbed them while the Weasel and Granger were too busy looking like kicked crups to notice I had my wand out.”

“Good idea,” Harry laughed. “So, tell me about the other champions and their dragons.”

Harry listened as they walked, laughing in all the right places as he watched Malfoy explain the other dragon fights. He was surprisingly animated, waving his hands all over the place and almost smacking Harry more than once, his face lighting up as he talked about Fleur Delacour’s skirt getting set on fire by the Welsh Green’s snoring. Harry liked this version of Malfoy best; he seemed so happy and carefree when he was reenacting the other fights, his features softened more with each word, and Harry found himself smiling like an idiot.

“Yours was the best, of course, and I’m sure that everyone would agree.” Malfoy smirked as he turned to face Harry. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” Harry chuckled. “Now, what were you saying about me being the best? I’m sure there’s more,”

“Oh, ha-ha, very funny.”

“Well, I do try,” Harry joked, moving out of the way when Malfoy made to push him.

“There’s the judges! Let’s go see how perfect a score the chosen one gets, eh?”

“Of course,” Harry followed Malfoy to the end of the enclosure, where the five judges were seated at the other end.

“They’ll each score you out of ten,” Malfoy said, watching the judges as Madam Maxime lifted her wand and it shot out a silver eight.

“You’d think that you’d’ve gotten more than an eight, but I suppose she’s not much of a sports fan,” Malfoy muttered, causing Harry to laugh again. Merlin, but he’s been laughing a lot because of Malfoy lately.

“I don’t really care what I get, I’m just glad I survived.” Harry said, glancing sideways at the other boy.

Malfoy hummed noncommittally, grey eyes glued to the judges.

Mr. Crouch voted next, giving Harry a nine. Then Dumbledore, who also voted nine.

“You’re at twenty-six right now, Potter. Not bad,” Malfoy’s voice was nearly drowned out by the cheering of the crowd.

Next to judge was Ludo Bagman, who shot his number in the air- ten.

“Thirty-six, Potter! Only a few points away from top score,” Malfoy gripped his arm tightly in excitement.

“But why’d he give me a ten? I thought injuries knocked off points,”

“Why are you complaining about it? It’s not like you can change his mind.”

“That’s true,” Harry murmured as Igor Karkaroff raised his wand and shot the number four into the air.

“ _Four?_ ” Malfoy sneered. “He’s playing favourites. He gave Viktor Krum a ten, and he made his dragon crush about half the real eggs in the nest!” Malfoy seethed, his grip on Harry’s arm painful.

“Hey, its fine, Malfoy. I’m still in second now, aren’t I?”

“No!” Malfoy’s eyes brightened.

_God, he has some ridiculous mood swings_ , Harry thought.

“You’re tied for first place!”

“Really?” Harry was skeptical.

“Great job, Harry!” Charlie Weasley came up and slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders in a side-hug. “Congrats on the tie! I’ve got to go write a letter to mum, she’s been worried sick about you. Oh, sorry to say, but you’re gonna get stuck here for a few more minutes. Bagman wants a word with all the champions in the tent. See you later, Harry!”

“Thanks Charlie!” Harry yelled at his retreating back, grinning.

“Who was that?” Malfoy asked, a strange expression on his face.

“Charlie Weasley. He’s a dragon tamer,” Harry explained as they started walking towards the tent.

“Hmm. Not bad,” Malfoy said.

“Not bad what?” Harry frowned, stopping in front of the flaps.

“Oh, you know,” Malfoy flapped a hand dismissively. “For a Weasley.”

Harry laughed. “Sod off, Malfoy.”

Malfoy smirked. “Want me to wait for you?”

“You can if you want. It shouldn’t take too long,” Harry shrugged.

“I’ll be here, then.”

Harry smiled and entered the tent, more comfortable now than he was earlier.

“Good job, Harry.” Cedric smiled, half his face was covered in a healing salve.

“You too,” Harry grinned, feeling light hearted and happy.

“Gather round, champions! Well done, well done!” Ludo Bagman exclaimed, practically bouncing in place. “Now, the next task isn’t until the end of February, so you’ve got a nice long break in between tasks, but you’ve got a challenge to complete in the meantime! Look at the golden eggs you’re all holding, see the hinges on the side? Opening them up will reveal a clue within that you’ll have to solve before the next task if you want to win! Got it? Everybody understand? Great! Off you go, then! I’m sure you’ll all want to celebrate!”

Harry exited the tent, shaking his head as he met back up with Malfoy and started towards the castle.

“That didn’t take very long,” Malfoy commented.

“No, he was just explaining what we need to do for the next task.”

“Which is?” One pale eyebrow rose up.

“Figuring out the clue in this egg,” Harry lifted up the egg and pointed to the hinges. Malfoy opened his mouth, but was cut off by a witch’s voice behind them that he’d rather not have to hear ever again.

“Congratulations, Harry!” Rita Skeeter was smiling broadly at him, her bright green outfit reflecting blindingly from the sun. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you on your big achievement? How did it feel to face that dragon? Do you feel more prepared now for the next task, since you’ve already accomplished the first? What do you think about the scoring?”

“Yeah, you can have a word,” Malfoy snarled, his lip curling.

“Goodbye,” Harry snapped at Skeeter, darting his hand out and latching onto Malfoy’s, dragging him back towards the castle.

Malfoy glared at Harry, but gave up once he realized that Harry wasn’t going to relinquish his hold anytime soon and let himself be pulled along.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait between updates! I kept getting stuck on a section and had the hardest time trying to figure out how to write it without throwing my laptop against the wall.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, the celebration party was in full swing. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan had managed to smuggle in a bunch of fireworks and deceiving sweets that the Weasley twins had created themselves. Harry was impressed with their line of candies, if not a tad bit weary about what he ate for the rest of the night.

Ron and Hermione had already talked to Harry, but the conversation was awkward and stilted. Harry wasn’t all that angry anymore, just annoyed for the most part. Like,  _ of course  _ everyone decided to believe him after he almost died. Would’ve been nice if they had believed him prior to facing an angry mother dragon, but that hardly matters now. What’s done is done, and Harry’s just glad that he isn’t being glared at by everyone now.

Ron was still mainly peeved at Harry’s befriending of Malfoy, but a harsh elbow to the ribs from Hermione and a whispered  _ Ronald  _ shut his mouth with a grimace. Harry didn’t care much what they thought of his new friendship; it isn’t like they have to be friends with Malfoy because he is. Hermione seemed more understanding as to Harry’s reasoning, although her own feelings on the matter were more aligned with Ron’s.

“Just- how do you easily forget what he’s done to all of us the past four years?” Hermione has asked, her face screwed up in confusion.

“Believe me, Hermione, I haven’t forgotten. You know how I am when it comes to second chances,” Harry had joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for Malfoy helping me with the first task anyway. He’s a pretty good bloke. Once you get past the gittishness, that is.”

Hermione had smiled a wobbly smile at him before exclaiming, “oh, Harry!” and launching herself at Harry, her bushy hair invading his mouth and nostrils. “I’m so sorry we weren’t there for you,” she had sniffed. “You could’ve died, and the last thing we’d done was fight!”

“Hey, it’s okay, ‘Mione. I’m still alive, everything’s fine.” Harry said, squeezing her. “Now I’ll have all three of you for the next task, won’t I? Just separately,”

“So you’re still gonna hang out with that prat even though you’ve got us back?” Ron had asked, looking between Hermione’s back and Harry’s face.

“Yes Ron, I am. Is that a problem?” Harry levelled a glare at the redhead, his arms tightening around Hermione’s small frame.

“Guess not,” Ron sighed, looking towards the party-goers. “I don’t like it, but there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”

“No, there isn’t.” Harry said, rubbing soothing circles on Hermione’s shaking back. “You pushed us together in the first place, mate. Think of his extra proximity to you as your punishment for being a stubborn git.” Harry managed a small smile in return for Ron’s snort.

Pulling back slightly, Harry examined Hermione’s red face. “You going to be alright, ‘Mione?”

Releasing her hold on Harry, Hermione stepped back and smiled. Her eyes were bright and watery, but her smile was genuine. “Yes, thank you, Harry.” Her voice was soft, but the double meaning in her words was loud and clear. Harry smiled back, feeling much lighter than he did before.

“Guess I brought this on myself, huh? I can live with that if I have to,” Ron shook his head and stepped forward, extending his hand. 

“You’re a right wanker, you know that?” Harry said. At Ron’s startled glance, Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed the extended hand, using it to pull Ron into a hug.

“I’ve missed you, mate.” Ron clapped Harry on the back before stepping away and clearing his throat.

“I’ve been here this whole bloody time!”

“I know,” Ron smiled sheepishly. “Just try not to throw the ferret at me too soon, alright? I need to be worked up to it. Now come on, we’ve got a celebration party in your honour to get through!” And with that, Ron made his way to the snack table.

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry wriggled his way through the throng of people, just in time to watch Neville Longbottom turn into a human-sized yellow canary.

***

Harry’s ears were still ringing. Everyone was excited to hear the next clue, cheering Harry on into opening the damned thing, just to end up with a headache because the egg  _ screeched _ . The bloody thing screeched! What kind of hint is a brain rattling shriek? What is Harry even supposed to make of that?

Someone had asked if it could be a hippogriff, but Hermione was quick to point out the differences between squacks and screeches when it came to creatures, then continued to ramble on about soundwaves to whoever would still listen.

Harry still had a headache from the bloody egg. Of course, that could easily be from him falling off the arm of the couch he was sitting upon at the time, but still. No one needed to know that he managed to hit his head on the corner of an end table before closing the vile contraption. It wasn’t anyone else’s business but Harry’s.

Now, Harry stared at the ceiling, his mind whirling through all the suggestions. Seamus Finnigan had mentioned a banshee, Neville thought Harry was going to have to be put under the Cruciatus Curse, and Lee Jordan was adamant that it was probably a horrid flesh melting creature Hagrid was raising. Hermione said something about research, while Ron had just shrugged and stuffed more food into his mouth.

Harry decided that he would see if Malfoy would meet him in the library tomorrow to go through that book Lucius Malfoy had sent to find a clue. After all, Malfoy was the one that helped him with the first task, so why not consult him again? Surely a book about the past tournaments was a better option than just taking guesses from his housemates?

Exhaling harshly, Harry vowed to deal with it tomorrow. Right now, he just wanted to get some much needed sleep.

***

After a night of surprisingly restful sleep, Harry walked into the Great Hall, only to be met with more stares and silence. Then, the whispering began. Holding back a groan, Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table in his usual spot, just to be stared at by Hermione. Ron had a strange pinched look on his face, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up.

Harry stared back at them, waiting for them to get on with it. Surely it can’t be that bad? He just got most of the school to stop hating him yesterday, what could he have possibly done to cause this?

“Harry,” Hermione started before biting her lip, looking unsure and glancing at Ron.

“Mate, I just..” Ron trailed off, looking lost. Frustration began bubbling inside Harry.

“Will you just tell me what’s going on?” Harry asked, exasperated. He just woke up! He couldn’t have done anything yet!

Without a word, Hermione slid her copy of _The_   _ Prophet  _ towards him, watching Harry’s face carefully. Confusion and dread swirled through Harry as he grabbed the paper and looked at it, before promptly choking.

On the front cover was a picture of Harry and Malfoy right after the task. In the picture, Harry reached out and grabbed Malfoy’s hand, glaring at the camera before turning and dragging the blond boy away. Another photo beneath the first shows Harry and Malfoy standing together during the scoring; Malfoy was holding onto Harry’s arm as Harry laughed, Malfoy’s small smile barely noticeable before the picture started over. Incredulous laughter bubbled in his throat as he read the title.

_ The Boy Who Loved? _

_ Harry Potter was spotted with Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, after the Triwizard Tournament. Could there be more to their so-called rivalry? Details on page 9! _

Harry laughed- he couldn’t help it. Looking up at the worried and slightly sick look on Ron’s face just made Harry laugh harder.

“You don’t actually believe this rot, do you?” Harry asked between giggles, looking between his two friends.

“Well, I dunno, mate. You’ve been awfully chummy with him lately,” Ron said, glancing between Harry and Hermione. Harry noticed that the redhead refused to glance back at the newspaper splayed across the table.

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione said, watching him intently. “I figured it was completely fake, but you’ve been spending a lot of time with him when we weren’t there for you,” her lip quivered slightly. “I just thought that it was something that you might not have been given a chance to talk about yet if it were true, but I didn’t really think it was. It’s written by Skeeter, after all. She’s known for twisting stories for her own personal gain.”

“It’s not true,” Harry snorted, shaking his head. Him and Malfoy? Bloody ridiculous, but funny.

“Well..” She trailed off, glancing over at Ron. “Are you even- that is to say, we wouldn’t care, but.. If you-” Hermione cut herself off, looking frustrated.

“Just spit it out, ‘Mione,” Harry said, taking a deep breath to steady himself a bit.

Ron was the one who answered, blurting, “Do you even like blokes?”

Harry froze, not knowing how to respond. Did he?

“I.. don’t know, mate,” Harry answered slowly, carefully. “I never really thought about it, I guess?”

“It- it wouldn’t bother me if you were, mate,” Ron said, seeming to think through his words carefully. “But Malfoy? I’ll always have a problem with Malfoy,”

Harry smiled. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t, Ron,” he joked, looking at Hermione.

“Oh Harry, you know I wouldn’t care!” Hermione exclaimed, reaching out and grasping Harry’s hand in hers. “You’d still be you no matter what, I’d just want you to tell me yourself! Not find out through another Rita Skeeter article,” Hermione’s brown eyes were wide and sincere as she squeezed Harry’s hand.

“Course, ‘Mione. But there’s nothing to tell,” Harry smiled at her. “What d’ya reckon the chances are that I can go embarrass Malfoy with this article?” Harry’s smile turned wicked as he watched the two Gryffindors.

“Blimey,” Ron answered, shaking his head. “I bet he’d hex you and never speak to you again!”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You’re on,” he said, pushing from the table.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Of course it is!” Harry said, scandalized. “He’ll hate it, but I’m positive that he’ll love it!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Ron muttered as Harry turned away and strode to the Slytherin table. 

The murmuring around the room escalated as Harry plopped down beside the blond boy.

“Morning, Malfoy!” Harry greeted cheerfully, grinning as the other Slytherins watched him. Some were still wary, but most were amused.

“Potter,” Malfoy’s eyes remained fixed on his plate of food. Harry snagged a slice of toast off his plate, making Malfoy look up and glare at him.

“So, Malfoy,” Harry said loudly between bites. “You never told me that we were dating.” 

“Shut  _ up _ , Potter,” Malfoy bit out through gritted teeth.

“Never!” Harry teased, leaning forward and landing a wet smacking kiss on Malfoy’s cheek.

“ _ Potter! _ ” The blond hissed, his face turning a bright red. Harry’s grin broadened at Malfoy's discomfort.

“Ashamed of me already, are you?” Harry asked, pretending to pout as a few students at the table failed to stifle their laughter. Looking at the Gryffindor table, Ron’s face was slightly green as Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, turning away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Malfoy’s glare was ruined by the red stains on his cheeks, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I actually had a real reason for coming over here,” Harry answered, finishing off the piece of toast.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “So there was an actual reason, rather than just embarrassing me and feeding rumors?”

“Of course there was!” Harry exclaimed, looking at Malfoy with wide eyes. “I want to talk to you. Meet me in the library later?”

“Is after dinner okay? I have plans during my free period,”

“After dinners fine,” Harry nodded, standing up. “See you then, Malfoy.”

Walking back to the Gryffindor table, Harry heard a voice behind him coo “Aww, don’t you two make a cute couple?” To which Malfoy’s voice replied, “Shut up, Zabini.” Harry snorted and sat back across from Ron and Hermione, fixing up his plate and purposefully ignoring their pointed stares.

***

Harry was waiting for Malfoy very patiently in the library after dinner. He chose the same table he was seated at when Malfoy had first approached him with the  _ Potter Stinks  _ badges, thinking that it’d be the most obvious choice. The table tended to provide adequate privacy from prying eyes as well, and Harry figured that Malfoy would be more wary about being seen with him so openly after that article. 

But what if someone saw them both hiding in the back of the library and took it the wrong way? Hiding from view could easily be taken either way, depending on who it was that spotted them. Had Harry chosen wrong? Maybe he should pack his things up and move a few tables ahead, not completely in the open, but not completely hidden away either. Harry had just started putting his books and papers back inside of his bag when a voice startled him, causing Harry to drop his pot of ink.

“Leaving so soon? I didn’t think it took me that long to get here,” Malfoy said, clearing up the spreading black puddle of ink with the wave of his wand. “Honestly Potter, one would think that after beating a dragon, you’d be less easy to startle.”

Harry looked up, throat dry. “Malfoy,” he croaked, clearing his throat.

Raising one pale eyebrow, Malfoy gingerly sat his bag on a chair and claimed the seat beside it. “So,” Malfoy gestured around himself. “I’m in the library. You wanted to talk?”

“Right! I did, yes. Er, thanks for coming?” Harry stammered, still unsure about his seating arrangement. Did Malfoy think it was weird? Harry hoped not.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed when Harry refused to continue, his eyes downcast and cheeks flushed. “Yes Potter, talk. What is it you wanted? I had a rather exciting evening planned,”

“Oh sorry, uh, I wanted to talk about a book,” Harry glanced up at Malfoy, chewing on his lip nervously.

“A book.” Malfoy’s eyebrows rose. “You want to talk about a book? Potter, I’ve been getting followed around and accosted by people all day asking me about those bloody rumors that  _ you _ ,” Malfoy pointed one pale finger at Harry accusingly. “Helped feed at breakfast this morning, just so that you could talk about books?”

“Not any books!” Harry rushed to point out. “Just one! One book,” dragging his hand through his hair, Harry looked away. “Look, I’m sorry about everyone bugging you. I just thought it’d be fun to mess with you a bit, and I’m sure I didn’t help anything, but they would’ve followed you around anyway. Besides, I do really need to talk to you.”

Malfoy sighed and shook his head, straightening out the books Harry had on the table. “It’s fine, really. I’m sure it would’ve happened regardless. Now,” Malfoy folded his hands in his lap and looked at Harry. “What book are you wanting to talk about that’s so important?”

“Right, well it’s the book your father sent you. About the previous tournaments? I was hoping I could look through it a bit to try finding out more about what that blasted demonic egg’s clue is,” Harry finished on a grumble, scratching the back of his neck.

“Mmm,” Malfoy hummed, turning to open his bag and search through it. A moment later, Malfoy’s hand emerged along with the leather bound tome. He placed the book on the table and gently pushed it towards Harry, only to tighten his hold on it when Harry reached for it. “Now Potter, do you remember what my father’s letter said about this book?” Malfoy’s tone was light, but his grey eyes were piercing and serious.

“Er, that it tells more about the previous tournaments and goes into detail about tasks that have been discussed but not used yet?”

Malfoy watched Harry fidget in his seat for a beat before answering, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. “Yes, but not what I was referring to. What did the end of the letter say?” Malfoy started to lightly drum his fingers on the book, his manicured nails making a quiet  _ tap tap tap  _ on the soft cover of the book. Harry watched in fascination at the way Malfoy’s fingers moved. Each digit was long and graceful, almost delicate in the motion, as though one hard rap would completely shatter the bones within. The pale complexion of his skin only added to the effect; their slenderness only enhanced by the gentle movements.

“Potter?”

“Uh,” Harry started, eyes wide as he glanced back up at Malfoy’s narrowed eyes. “Don’t destroy it?”

Malfoy scoffed. “Yes, well, the  _ least  _ you could do is refrain from destroying it,” Malfoy lifted a hand to his face, pale fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Perfect condition!” Harry rushed out, hoping to move the conversation along and  _ not  _ think anymore about Malfoy’s fingers, of all things. “Your father wanted it back in no less than perfect condition,”

“Precisely, Potter,” Malfoy sighed. “But seeing as how you couldn’t even  _ remember  _ that until now leaves me no choice.”

“Er, no choice for what?”

“I’ll just have to study it with you,” Malfoy shrugged, “it’s not that much of a hardship since I’ve already helped you with the first task, and it should at least prove to be interesting.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed readily, thinking that having Malfoy there to help him would be easier.

Malfoy nodded once, flipping the book open to the index. “Good. So, what kind of problem is Potty having with this egg of his?”

“Well, it kinda shrieks when I open it,”

“It shrieks? What kind of shriek is it?”

“Uh, loud and headache-inducing?” Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Like, almost a wail, only very high pitched and extremely annoying.”

“Do you have the egg with you?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag. Why?”

“Open it.”

“What?”

“Open the egg, Potter. I want to hear it.”

“Are you mad? We’re in the library!”

“So? This is a place for studying, and I want to study the egg.”

“Madam Pince would have a fit and kick us out! There’s no way I’m opening that bloody egg in here.”

“Scared, Potter?”

“No. Absolutely not. That won’t work on me this time.”

“Because you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared, Malfoy, I just don’t want to get kicked out of the library!”

“So you’re scared of getting kicked out of the library?”

“I’m not scared!”

“Prove it.”

***

“I told you she’d kick us out,” Harry groaned, leaning against the wall by the Entrance Hall.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Malfoy said, lifting his chin.

“The egg was open for no more than five seconds before Madam Pince swooped in! She looked like she was about to have a heart attack!”

“You think so?” Malfoy asked, his eyes shining. 

The corner of Harry’s mouth ticked up. “Maybe not, but I’m pretty sure she was at least screeching at us nearly as loud as the egg was.”

Malfoy snorted. “I’m sure she was. We can just go somewhere else to study for a few days, though. It won’t be that much of a hassle.”

“Where do you wanna go to study then?”

Malfoy shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll think of something,”

Harry pushed himself off the wall and shook his head. “Oh no, Malfoy, you’re figuring out where we’re studying for the next few days. Not me,”

“Me? You’re the one that needs to figure out why your egg is screaming,”

“Well, you’re the one that got us kicked out of the library!” Harry threw his hands up in exasperation.

“I did no such thing!” Malfoy stepped forward and poked one bony finger into Harry’s chest. “You’re the one that opened the egg,”

“Because you wouldn’t leave me alone about it!”

“Because you were scared,” Malfoy smirked.

“I was not scared!” Harry nearly yelled, turning away from Malfoy and tugging on his hair in frustration.

“Is there a problem here?” A gruff voice from behind startled Harry. Turning around, Harry subconsciously took a step closer to Malfoy before facing the intruder. Well, intruder into their conversation, anyway.

“No problem at all, Professor,” Malfoy replied, back stiff as he faced Mad-Eye Moody.

Moody’s magical eye whirled its focus between the two boys before rolling up towards the ceiling. Harry suppressed a shiver.

“Then you boys better start making your way back to your dorms. It’s almost curfew,” Moody nodded once then turned around, hobbling his way down the corridor.

“Right then,” Harry muttered, scuffing his shoe on the floor. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Malfoy replied, still staring down the corridor Moody disappeared through. “Don’t forget to think of a place to study.”

Harry groaned, thunking his head against the wall as Malfoy walked away. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry friends, but I am like low-key really fuckin bad at writing super long chapters lmao but I try to make sure that they're at least like. 5k words long? I dunno.

“So, figured anything out with your egg yet, mate?” Ron asked, jabbing his wand at his guinea fowl.

“No,” Harry sighed, twirling his wand in an attempt to transfigure his own fowl into a guinea pig.

“Thought Malfoy was supposed to be helping you,” Ron’s voice was controlled and even, but his face was twisted into a grimace.

“He is,” Harry cracked a smile, “but we got kicked out of the library and haven’t found a new place to study yet. Oi, Hermione,” Harry spun around and looked at her, her guinea fowl already transfigured and sitting in a cage atop Professor McGonagall’s desk. “D’ya know any good places to study besides the library?”

“The common room?” Hermione answered, not even bothering to look up from the parchment she was furiously taking notes on.

Harry shook his head with a sigh, “No, the common room won’t work unless you want Malfoy in there,”

At this, Hermione placed her quill down and looked up, her expression shocked. “Then what’s wrong with the library?”

“Weren’t you listening? Harry and Malfoy got kicked out by Pince,” Ron snickered, putting his partially transfigured creature into the wire cage and placing it on McGonagall’s desk.

“What?” Hermione’s eyes widened in horror, “How did you get kicked out?”

“Probably got caught snogging him in the corner,” Ron muttered, shoving his supplies back into his bag haphazardly.

“What? No!” Harry spluttered, his face turning red. “We were not! He just wanted to see my egg,”

“Right, your  _ egg _ ,” Ron snorted.

“‘Mione,” Harry whined, running a hand over his face in embarrassment.

“Cut it out, Ron,” Hermione answered, narrowing her eyes at Harry. “How did you two get kicked out of the library, Harry?” 

“Well, he wanted to see the egg,” Harry ignored Ron’s muffled laugh, “and wanted me to open it. I tried to talk him out of it!” Harry rushed to explain at Hermione’s outraged look, “I told him we’d get kicked out! But he kept saying that I was  _ scared _ ,” He finished on a grumble, putting his own semi-transfigured guinea pig into a cage.

“I can’t believe you,” Hermione shook her head and leaned forward onto her desk, pushing her bushy hair out of her face. “Did he at least have any ideas about what the sound could be?”

“No, I had the egg open for all of five seconds before Madam Pince came barreling towards us, shrieking as loud as the egg and telling us to leave,”

“Do you think the next task would be facing Madam Pince in a library?” Ron asked, grinning.

Harry snorted, grinning back. “I wish. Anything would be better than whatever those judges can come up with at this point,”

“Harry,” Hermione cut in, her voice soft. “You really need to work on figuring out the clue in that egg,”

“I know, but I’ve still got until the middle of February. There’s plenty of time,” Harry shrugged and stood, taking his creature up to the desk.

“But it could take you weeks to sort out! What will you do when you’re the only champion that hadn’t figured out the clue?” Hermione’s eyebrows were pulled together into a frown, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“I dunno. Wing it? That’s what I normally do,”

“Calm down, Hermione, Harry’ll get it figured out. He’s got us and even the ferret on his side,”

Hermione’s frown only deepened as she opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she was going to say was cut off by Professor McGonagall clearing her throat at the front of the room. 

“Now, if you three are quite finished?” McGonagall glared at each Harry, Ron and Hermione in turn before nodding to herself and turning to address the class, “I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching. It is a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament as well as an opportunity for the three different schools to socialize. The ball will only be open to fourth year students and above, however, you may invite someone from a younger year if you wish to do so,”

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were giggling in the corner of the room, shooting covert glances at Harry. Harry frowned, put out that Professor McGonagall was choosing to ignore them when he had gotten scolded for talking.

“Dress robes will be required. The ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas day, and end at midnight in the Great Hall. This is a chance for us all to- as they say- let our hair down,” McGonagall frowned at the word choice, deliberately making eye contact with each student in turn. “That does not mean any behavior unbefitting of a Hogwarts student will be tolerated. I will be most displeased should any Gryffindor student embarrass this school in such a way.”

The bell rang then, signalling the end of class. Students all rushed out of their seats and to the door, chattering excitedly about the ball.

“Mr. Potter, a word if you please,” McGonagall’s voice carried over the mass of students, tone brooking no arguments. Waving off Ron and Hermione, Harry approached the desk warily, hoping he wasn’t about to get another lecture about the library incident.

“Yes, Professor?”

Professor McGonagall waited until the last of the students shuffled out of the room before speaking, “Potter, the champions and their partners-”

“Uh, what partners?”

“For the Yule Ball?” McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Your  _ dance partner _ , Potter.”

Harry froze, his eyes widening. “Er, sorry Professor, but I don’t dance,” he answered quickly, hoping against all hope that for once in his life, something would go his way.

“Oh yes you do, Potter,” the Professor’s voice was cold and irritated. “That’s precisely what I’m telling you right now. Traditionally, the champions and their respective partners will open the ball with a dance.”

“I’m not dancing,” Harry stated firmly, even as his insides were attempting to transfigure themselves into writhing snakes.

“It’s tradition,” McGonagall replied, her voice even. “You are a champion - not to mention a representative of this school - and you will find yourself a partner and do what you need to do as a Hogwarts champion.”

“But Professor,” Harry’s tone bordered on desperate, but Professor McGonagall cut him off before he could finish.

“You will, Potter, and that is final,”

***

Back in the common room, Harry was seated on one of the many burgundy sofas with his head between his knees, but he was most certainly not sulking. Harry James Potter does not sulk. He gets handed a problem, clings onto it and then charges headfirst into it and fixes it. Only this time, the problem isn’t a giant bloody snake or a ridiculous professor with a possessed mind to kill. No, it was  _ dancing.  _ With a  _ girl _ . Where is Harry even expected to find one of those? And how do you even get one to agree to dance with you when you were born with two left feet?

Harry groaned, loudly, and received a sympathetic pat on the back from Ron. Ron was lucky. He wasn’t being forced to find a girl and convince them that being in the spotlight was a fair trade with getting their toes crushed every other step.

“Harry,” Hermione spoke quietly beside him, “if you want to get your mind off the dance, then maybe you should stop sulking and start looking for possible answers for that egg of yours?”

“I’m not sulking,” Harry grumbled, his voice muffled. “And I still have two months to find the answer,”

“Yes well, what if it takes you a month to decode it?”

Harry snorted. “Well, then I’ll have you to help me cram a month of decoding into a matter of days, won’t I?”

“You know that you’re not supposed to have outside help with these tasks, Harry,” Hermione’s brow was furrowed.

“S’not like it matters, does it? Besides, the ferret already helped him with the first task. Pointless to tell Harry no more teamwork after he’s already broken the rule,” Ron spoke up from across them, glaring at his homework.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Harry,” she started, voice firm. “You know how dangerous these tasks are! Don’t you think that it would be a good idea to have as much time to plan as possible? Personally, I feel-”

“You know what, Hermione?” Harry cut in desperately, lifting his head with wide eyes. “You’re right. You are so right, just like you always are. Bloody brilliant, really. I think I’m going to go grab the egg right now and see if I can’t find Malfoy before dinner and ask him if he’s found anything since the library,” Harry jumped up from his seat, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. Some dancer he’d make.

“Uh Harry?” Ron said, looking at him strangely. “Why not just stay in here and discuss it with us?”

“Well, have either of you had any ideas since the party?” Harry asked, looking from one to the other.

“Well no, but-”

“And that’s exactly why I’m going to go talk to Malfoy. He hasn’t told me yet whether he’s found anything else or not. Worth a shot to check, right? See you at dinner!” Harry waved and all but bounded up the steps to his dorm room, grabbing the egg and the Marauder’s Map and stuffing them beneath his robes before rushing back down the stairs and out into the corridor. 

Ducking behind a pillar, Harry pulled out his wand and the map. Taking a deep breath, Harry tapped the map with his wand and whispered, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” drinking in the lines of black ink spreading across the surface. Harry’s eyes roamed the map hungrily, breath hitching in excitement when he saw the footprints labelled  _ Draco Malfoy  _ heading up the staircase leading to the owlery. 

Stowing the map back inside his cloak, Harry took off at a moderate pace, wondering if Malfoy would think it’s weird if he just showed up randomly without a letter to send. Dismissing the thought, Harry continued on, thankful that Gryffindor Tower was much closer to the Owlery than the Dungeons were. Harry stopped in front of the large door leading to the grounds and swallowed, pulling the heavy wood open slightly and slipping outside, carefully closing the door behind him before making his way across the cut grass. Slowing down at the bottom of the staircase, Harry took a deep breath and held it before slowly stepping onto the first step. He continued climbing at a steady pace, not wanting to keep silent, but also not wanting to announce his presence so soon. The gentle trills and hoots covered up the sound of his footsteps as he stopped just inside the entrance, taking in the scene before him.

Malfoy stood with his back facing Harry, his attention on the dark eagle owl before him. The wind was gently blowing the strands of his blond hair across his face as he stroked the brown plumage. Malfoy was talking quietly to the owl, so quietly that Harry couldn’t make out a word, carefully tying a letter to the extended leg and offering a treat he pulled out of his pocket. Murmuring something more to the bird, Malfoy stepped back as the owl flew away and disappeared behind the trees.

Feeling weird just standing and watching, Harry cleared his throat and said, “Beautiful bird,”

Malfoy stiffened and turned around, his shoulders relaxing marginally once he spotted Harry. “Thank you. He was a gift from my father,” his voice was still hushed, possibly to not startle the owls.

“What’s his name?” Harry asked just as gently, glancing around the rows of perches. He spotted Hedwig easily enough, her head tucked beneath one white wing.

“Pyxis,” the corner of Malfoy’s mouth quirked up, “I thought it a fitting name for an owl, seeing as it means compass,” he looked outside again, the last rays of sunlight filtering in through the window, creating a golden halo around his nearly white hair.

“It suits him,” Harry answered simply, walking forward to lean against the rail and look out across the grounds.

“It does,” Malfoy said, moving to stand a couple feet away from Harry. “How’d you know I’d be up here?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was going to send a letter?” Harry grimaced slightly.

“No,” Malfoy snorted, rolling his eyes.

“I figured,” Harry muttered, scuffing the toe of his trainer on the ground.

“But really, how did you know that I would be up here?”

“Er,” Harry froze for a second, then decided to just jump in headfirst. Besides, Malfoy didn’t seem mad that Harry was up here with him in the first place, so what did it really even matter? “The valuable tools at my disposal?” 

“Oh yes, that’s right. The tools that you refused to tell me about the last time you stalked me to the top of a tower,”

“I didn’t stalk you on top of the Astronomy Tower! I was there first,” Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

“Details,” Malfoy waved a hand flippantly. Harry snorted.

“So are you going to tell me about those tools of yours now, or pretend that they aren’t important again?” Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, grey eyes challenging.

“Oh fine,” Harry sighed, cursing himself for giving in so easily in the face of a challenge with Malfoy. Pulling the now blank map from his cloak, Harry held it out silently.

Malfoy reached out hesitantly, his face a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Plucking the map out of Harry’s hands, the blond opened it and frowned.

“Its blank,” Malfoy stated, flipping it over and examining the back.

“For now,” Harry grinned, reaching his hand out for the map. Malfoy handed it over, albeit reluctantly, and Harry pulled out his wand. 

“Watch,” Harry’s voice dropped down to a whisper. Malfoy moved to his side, watching over his shoulder as Harry’s wand tapped against the parchment. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,”

“That’s not a spell,” Malfoy started, his face crinkling in confusion before relaxing, grey eyes widening as the ink spread in tendrils across the inside of the folds. “Is that..?” He trailed off, eyes flitting across the parchment in wonder.

“Hogwarts,” Harry nodded, looking at the map and watching the hundreds of footsteps before freezing, staring at the lone dot coming towards the West Tower. 

“Mischief managed,” Harry muttered, folding the map quickly and tucking it back inside his robes.

“Potter, what-”

“Quiet,” Harry hissed, grabbing Malfoy’s arm and dragging him back down the steps, thankful that Malfoy listened and followed without question. It was an odd thought, Malfoy just following whatever Harry said without putting up a fight. Odd, but nice, Harry decided as they descended the last step and walked briskly across the grounds, The sun was almost set, and it would be dinner time soon, but Harry didn’t care. He just kept walking, dragging Malfoy behind him on the well worn path.

“Potter,” Malfoy hissed when they were far enough away from the Owlery. “Where are we going?”

“I’m sorry for this, I really am but oh Merlin, promise me you’ll behave yourself?” Harry answered back, realizing that this was not the best idea he’s ever had, but deciding to continue along with it anyway. He wasn’t sorted Gryffindor for nothing, after all.

“Behave myself? For what?” Malfoy tried yanking his hand back and -when did Harry end up holding his hand?- stopped walking, forcing Harry to stop as well. Harry turned around and glared, knowing that Malfoy’s willingness was too good to last for long.

“I don’t know if you saw the map or not,” Harry started, tugging on Malfoy’s hand to get him moving again. “But Mad-Eye Moody was coming to the Owlery, and I for one am not in the mood to talk to him. I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but he has an almost unhealthy obsession with trying to talk to me about the tournament. I don’t trust him, and I certainly don’t want to subject myself to his questions about the next task.”

Malfoy huffed but trudged along behind Harry nevertheless, the grip of his hand increasing in pressure. “That’s all well and good, Potty, but you still didn’t say where we were going.”

“I just want you to remember that I apologized first,” Harry muttered, looking behind himself to see if they were being followed.

“Yes, and I’m supposed to  _ behave  _ myself,” Malfoy said, the sneer evident in his voice. “But where are you dragging me to?”

“We’re uh, going to hide at Hagrid’s?” Harry rushed out, picking up the pace and pulling the blond along with him.

“What?” Malfoy almost yelped, freezing and forcing Harry to stop again with a huff. “You cannot be serious about dragging me into that- that oaf’s home! Did you forget what happened last year? He won’t even allow me in there even if I wanted to go!”

“He’s not an oaf,” Harry sighed, reaching up with his free hand to rub at his eyes. “And yes he will, not only because I’m the one dragging you there, but because Hagrid is a very forgiving person. We won’t have to stay there long, I promise. I just really don’t want to be cornered by Moody again and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go that would be safe.”

“I can admit that I have seen Moody approaching you during school, but it isn’t necessarily a bad thing that he’s trying to talk to you about the tournament,” Malfoy pointed out, much to Harry’s frustration. “And is the castle not safe enough for you?”

“Of course Hogwarts is safe enough for me, are you daft? We would have just been walking in the direction he’s coming from. Besides, I don’t think he’s really trying to help me. Something about it just seems off,”

“Do we really have to go to Hagrid’s though?” Malfoy whined.

“Yes, Malfoy. Now quit whining,”

“I beg your pardon? A Malfoy does not  _ whine _ ,” Malfoy sniffed.

“Sure a Malfoy doesn’t,” Harry snorted.

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sound of a door banging open and a dog barking.

“Who’s out there? Harry, s’that you?” Hagrid stood towering in the doorway of his hut, pink umbrella hoisted up in one hand and Fang cowering behind him.

“Oh, Merlin,” Malfoy whimpered behind him, and Harry rolled his eyes and tugged on his hand again, causing Malfoy to stumble slightly.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Harry grinned, walking the rest of the up the path, all but dragging a very reluctant Malfoy behind him.

“Well, come on in,” Hagrid grinned. “Who’s tha’ with yeh?” The giant squinted, trying to make out a face in the dark.

“It’s Draco,” Harry answered, pulling the blond along with him into what little light escaped between Hagrid and the doorway. Hagrid raised one bushy black eyebrow but said nothing, just opened the door wider and moved out of the way to allow them entrance.

Once inside, Harry took a seat in the middle chair, hauling Malfoy into the seat beside him, closest to the door. The blond shot him a grateful look that quickly turned into a glare, no doubt for putting him in this situation in the first place. Harry snickered.

“So! Tea?” Hagrid said brightly, his grin only wavering slightly as he looked at Malfoy. Harry took this as a good sign.

“Please,” Harry said, waiting until Hagrid was busy with assembling cups and water before turning to Malfoy and whispering, “Don’t eat the biscuits unless you want to break a tooth,” 

Eyes wide in horror, Malfoy looked down at his lap and froze, then carefully tightening the grip he had on Harry’s hand in a silent plea. Harry blushed but squeezed back, forcing himself to focus his attention on the boarhound at his feet.

“Hey Fang,” Harry murmured, reaching down and scratching the large dog behind the ears.

“So, Harry,” Hagrid said, plopping three large mugs of tea on the table. “I didn’ know you an Malfoy were friends,”

“It’s a recent development,” Harry said wryly, picking up his cup and taking a small sip of the tea. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy inspect his own mug carefully before doing the same.

“Is tha’ so,” the giant muttered, taking a rather hefty swallow out of his own large cup.

“Yeah,” Harry grinned, doing his best not to flinch at the vice like grip the blond had on his hand under the table. “In fact, Draco was the one that helped me beat the dragon in the first task,”

“Did he really? I woulda though’ that Ron an Hermione woulda been tha ones to help yeh,” Hagrid said, the shock evident in his voice.

“They probably would have been if they weren’t the first ones to call him a liar,” Malfoy said snidely, picking up his mug again and taking a drink.

“Now listen here-” Hagrid started, his eyes narrowed at Malfoy.

“No, Hagrid,” Harry cut in, irritation coloring his tone. “Ron did call me a liar, and Hermione backed him up, saying that I should feel bad for Ron because he got his feelings hurt when I was the one that should have been in a snit for having my bloody name thrown into that cup. Draco did nothing wrong; in fact, he was about the only one that didn’t seem to outright hate me, as shocking as that may seem. He helped me, and without him I probably wouldn’t have survived that task with only a scratch to the shoulder. Ron was jealous, and Hermione sided with him instead of me. Due to that, Draco and I became friends. Will there be any problems with that?” Harry kept his focus on Hagrid, even as the grip on his hand became so tight he felt like his bones were about to snap. How could someone’s hand be that bloody strong?

Hagrid’s eyes widened drastically. “Course there won’ be, Harry! I’m jus havin a rough time understandin it, is all. You two’ve hated eachother since the firs’ day. Yeh can’t blame me fer bein a bit confused on that, can yeh? Sides, I haven’t even seen the three o’ yeh this year, since yer not in me class anymore,” the giant looked down at his hands in his lap, and Harry felt his gut twist in shame.

“Of course not, Hagrid. You know we loved your class, we’re just getting a lot piled up on our plates now. Not to mention this stupid tournament,” Harry ended on a grumble, slouching down further in his chair. He felt his hand get squeezed in sympathy.

“I understand tha’. S’long as yeh all still come ter visit me when yeh’ve got the time,” Hagrid grinned, glancing at the clock. “It’s abou’ time fer dinner! Come along, you two, wouldn’ want yeh to miss that, now would we?” And with that, Hagrid heaved himself off the chair and made for the door, Harry and Draco following silently behind him.

Once outside, Hagrid walked ahead of them on the path towards the castle. Harry went to take a step and was abruptly halted by Draco, their hands still together. 

“Oh, sorry,” Harry tried to extract his hand, his cheeks heating up, but instead lost his balance as he was tugged forward and caught in Draco’s arms awkwardly.

“I.. Thank you,” the blond whispered. “I’m still unbelievably angry at you though,” and just as quickly, Harry was pushed back, his hand released as Draco turned around and strode off towards the castle. Harry didn’t miss the pink stains high on Draco’s cheekbones before he turned away, but strangely enough, he did find himself missing the warmth of the other boy’s hand in his own.

Shaking his his head and trying to will away his confusion, his stomach growled, prompting him to follow along the path back towards the school.

***

Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, trying desperately to distract himself away from the fact that Draco Malfoy  _ hugged him _ . Sure, Harry had hugged him before, but that was out of excitement. This hug was deliberate. He hugged Harry on  _ purpose _ , and Harry couldn’t figure out why for the life of him. The thanks he received would have been perfectly acceptable, but what did Harry do that warranted a hug? Maybe Draco was just confused because he hadn’t let go of Harry’s hand after escaping the Owlery and Moody. That would make sense. It would also explain why Draco had practically ran away, looking frustrated with himself afterwards as well. 

But what it didn’t explain was why Harry didn’t mind it. Sure, Hermione has been known to grab his hand from time to time, and Ron has before as well, but neither of those had ever made Harry blush or feel awkward. Maybe it was just because he and Draco weren’t as close as Harry was to Ron or Hermione? That would make sense. And could it also explain why Harry found himself referring to the blond as  _ Draco  _ instead of  _ Malfoy  _ now? Because Harry considered Draco as one of his closer friends, and holding hands without thinking about it was something that Harry just did with two of his best friends? Harry didn’t fully understand his own logic, but it sounded right.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, making him focus back on the empty plate sitting in front of him.

“Yeah?” Harry quickly grabbed the closest bowl to him and began loading his plate.

“Did Malfoy have any other ideas about the clue?” Hermione asked, her gaze focused on the bread roll she was slowly shredding. Ron, seated next to Hermione and across from Harry, promptly stuffed his mouth with a forkful of food in a desperate attempt to stay out of the conversation.

“Oh Merlin,” Harry groaned, slumping down in his seat. “I completely forgot to ask him about that,”

“You  _ what _ ?” Hermione immediately abandoned her roll in order to glare at Harry in disbelief. “How could you have forgotten to ask him about it? That was the whole reason you went looking for him!”

“I know,” Harry scrubbed a hand down his face. “I guess I just got a bit distracted?” 

“Distracted with what?” Hermione’s voice rose and Harry flinched involuntarily.

“Don’t answer that, Harry,” Ron suddenly broke in, his face slightly green. “I really don’t want to know how you and the ferret got distracted after you showed him your egg again,”

Hermione’s scandalized “ _ Ronald _ !” was quickly accompanied by a quiet  _ thump _ and a wince from the redhead.

“Sorry,” Ron said, not sounding very sorry at all.

“Anyway,” leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table, Hermione’s brown eyes bore into Harry’s. “What happened?”

“Well, Draco was in the Owlery when I found him, and-” Harry got cut off.

“You call him  _ Draco  _ now?” Ron nearly yelled, causing the students nearby to turn and look at the three of them.

“Not the point,” Harry spoke quickly, fighting the urge to fidget. “I found him in the Owlery, and he asked me how I knew he was there, and I kind of showed him the Marauder’s Map?”

“Harry, why would you do that? He’s the enemy!” Ron’s face was quickly turning red.

“Yours, maybe,” Harry glared at the redhead, who glared right back.

“Then what happened?” Hermione’s voice was soft and managed to calm Harry down a fraction.

“Right,” exhaling loudly, Harry continued, “I showed him the map, and I noticed that Mad-Eye was heading in our direction, so I closed it up and dragged Draco down the stairs and out of the tower.”

“Seems like a bit much, doesn’t it mate? Running off just because Moody’s coming?” Ron asked, seeming to remember he was eating and picking his fork back up.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll explain that part to you guys later when we’re back in the common room. But anyway, I dragged him across the grounds with me and we sort of ended up hiding at Hagrid’s.”

“You took  _ Malfoy  _ to visit Hagrid?” Hermione squeaked, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “Why would you do something like that? Don’t you remember what he did to Buckbeak just last year?”

“Well,” Harry said, scooping a large helping of potatoes onto his plate, “it was kind of an act now, think later type of situation.”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would you take him to Hagrid’s, of all places? Why not just come back up to the castle?”

“Ah,” Harry nodded. “Because that’s where Moody was coming from, and I wanted to stay away from him.”

“How did Hagrid react to having the ferret in his home? I’m surprised the git is still in one piece!” Ron laughed, banging his fist on the table.

“It wasn’t all that bad, actually. Could have been much worse I’m sure, but I made Draco promise to behave himself. And, shockingly enough, he did.” Harry cracked a small smile to Hermione’s shocked expression. “Draco’s really not that bad once you get to know him, honestly. Against all logic,  _ I  _ get along with him just fine. Come to think of it, I don’t think we’ve even argued once since everything happened,”

“If you’re sure,” Hermione trailed off skeptically.

“I am,” Harry nodded again, still smiling reassuringly towards her. “Besides, he’s usually alone when he helps me with research anyway. It’s strange, really, not seeing Crabbe and Goyle always hulking behind him whenever he shows up.”

“Now that you mention it, I think you’re right. I haven’t seen either of them following him around as much as they used to,” Hermione focused her attention on the Slytherin table. “They’re still sitting with Malfoy though, so maybe he just hasn’t felt the need for them to constantly accompany him wherever he goes?”

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, scooping up the last bite of potatoes and beef with his fork. “Maybe I’ll ask him the next time I see him,”

Hermione hummed, watching the dinner plate in front of her vanish back into the kitchens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, thank you so much for reading, and I truly appreciate the comments and kudos!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! You've no idea how much I appreciate it!
> 
> Also, just a fair warning, I was enjoying a rather lovely glass or two of wine when I was struck with inspiration for this chapter, so I apologize for any mistakes that may be present upon posting.

“Hey, Malfoy?”

“Hmm?” The blond hummed noncommittally, carefully flipping the page of his potions textbook. 

“Have you found anything in that book your father sent?” Harry tapped the nub of his quill against his knee. Since they were still ‘banned’ from the library, they were sitting on a stone bench in one of the older abandoned hallways. Well, Draco was sitting on the stone bench; Harry was seated on the floor with his Transfiguration book laying on the bench itself, next to his roll of parchment, much to Draco’s disgust.  _ “But really, Potty,”  _ Draco had said, wrinkling his nose.  _ “You have no clue what has been in the place you’re sitting! That’s absolutely revolting - you could ruin the seat of your robes,”  _ Harry snorted in amusement.

“Nothing, really. There were a few creatures that I found in the book that could have fit, but I highly doubt it’s any one of them. Have you tried examining the egg itself to see if there are any clues on the shell of it?” Draco questioned idly, turning to the next page in his book.

“Of course I have!” Harry exclaimed, glaring at the blond through his fringe. “It just didn’t have anything useful on it,”

“Useful to you, or to those around you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Draco sighed, closing his book and fixing Harry with an exasperated look. “Have you even attempted to get a second opinion on whatever it is that is decorating the shell of the egg, or did you just glance at it and decide that it wasn’t important?” 

“I think I can tell if it’s important or not myself, thanks,”

“Really,” Draco deadpanned with a withering look. “Have you ever taken a runes class, or anything of the sort? Researched magical artifacts or meanings?”

“No, but Hermione has.”

“Right. And have you had her examine the egg herself?”

“No, she says that as a champion, I’m supposed to figure out and complete the tasks myself. All she’s done is nag at me to figure it out, but that’s as far as it goes. She won’t help me,”

“Even with your life on the line?”

“Doubtful,” Harry snorted, “I could be on my deathbed the morning of exams and Hermione’d still be shoving colour coded notes under my nose,”

“Doesn’t sound like a very good friend,” Draco sniffed imperiously, gathering his bag and carefully stowing his potions book away.

“No, Hermione’s a great friend, she’s just…” Harry trailed off helplessly, unsure of what to say. Sure, apologies were given and tears shed, but forgiving her and Ron hadn’t managed to erase the hollow feeling of being abandoned when Harry had needed them the most. Harry was still afraid of how simply they had dismissed him as though he were that easy to forget; how Harry had hexed Ron without a second thought and no one mentioned it, how Harry still didn’t feel as though the redhead deserved an apology for it.

“Just?” Draco murmured, lifting his bag up and motioning for Harry to start cleaning up as well.

“I don’t know,” Harry sighed, haphazardly gathering his parchments and utensils and shoved them carelessly into his own bag. “It’s difficult to explain? Like, we’re all talking again and trying to move passed the last handful of weeks, but I’m finding it more difficult than I thought it’d be?”

“You seem unsure of that,”

“No, I’m not necessarily unsure of what I said. More like I’m too sure, and that I’m just waiting for it to happen again.” Harry closed his bag and slung it over his shoulders, glaring down at his dirty trainers.

“You think there’s going to be another fallout?” Draco looked up at him, a mix of curiosity and confusion on his face.

Harry laughed humorlessly. “I get the feeling that there’s going to be an even larger fallout than the last,” he shook his head, dark hair slipping behind his glasses lens and poking him in the eye.

“What makes you so sure of that?” Draco asked, turning to walk back down the deserted corridor, not turning around to see if Harry was following.

“Don’t know, really. I know that we haven’t properly talked about what happened in the first place though, and that’s hardly a good sign, seeing as Hermione’s usually the first one trying to hash out everyone’s feelings to help bring everything back together. Not to mention that they just feel more distant than they used to? Like, they aren’t as close to me and following me everywhere I go anymore, and oddly enough, I find that I almost like that better. I don’t feel as pressured without Hermione breathing down my neck about grades or holding myself back to keep from making Ron jealous. It’s nice to just have a chance at being myself without having to worry about getting lectured or pissing someone off, you know?” Harry breathed in deeply, feeling strangely better about letting a little bit out. He didn’t feel as weighed down and guilty as he did before for what he was feeling about his two best friends. 

Glancing sideways at the blond, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that Draco was the one he had somewhat ranted to. Instead of sneering at Harry’s feelings or calling him a Hufflepuff, Draco just looked thoughtful, which was a far cry from what reaction Harry would have received had he ranted to the blond mere months ago.

“I do,” Draco said, so quietly that Harry almost didn’t catch it over the buzzing chatter drifting their way as they exited the corridor and into a main hallway.

“You do?” Harry asked, looking over at the other boy.

Grey eyes glanced at Harry warily before they seemed to solidify, his thin shoulders squaring themselves in preparation of what he was about to say. Draco had stopped walking and turned to face Harry, taking in a steady breath and firming his resolve as he opened his mouth.

“Hey, Harry,” came an unfamiliar and definitely female voice from their right, accompanied by a fit of giggles. Startled, Harry spun around, taking in the sight of the Ravenclaw standing a few feet away and twirling a long strand of dark hair around her finger. She looked older than him and was at least a foot taller, with broad shoulders and a look of single-minded determination etched on her face.

“Er, hello?” Harry said, glancing warily at the three other Ravenclaws standing a few more feet behind her, still giggling madly. He subconsciously stepped closer to Draco, who was watching the scene in front of him without expression.

“I was wondering..” The girl trailed off, stepping closer and giving him a small mischievous smile as her finger continued to twirl, “do you have a date for the Yule Ball?” Harry balked at the question, staring at the girl in poorly disguised horror.

“No?” Harry nearly squeaked and took a step back, his face suddenly feeling uncomfortably hot.

Determined, the Ravenclaw just took another step forward as her smile brightened. “Would you like to go to the ball with me?”

Taking another hasty step back, Harry stumbled, his back hitting the wall as the girl advanced on him, her dark brown eyes almost seemed to glint in the torch light. She reached out, and Harry flinched when her finger landed on his chest and lightly skated down, stopping just above his navel. Harry whipped his head to the side so quickly something in his neck cracked and he grimaced, glancing at Draco desperately as the Ravenclaw leaned forward, her hot breath ghosting across his neck as her lips brushed the lobe of his ear.

“What do you say, Harry?” She whispered, breathless in her excitement. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Er, thanks but I- uh,” Harry managed to get out, squeezing his eyes shut as she leaned closer still, placing one hand on the wall, the soft globes of her breasts brushing against his shoulder from where her torso tilted down to bring her face to his level. Harry had to stifle a whimper. “No?” Taking in a shuddering breath, Harry steeled himself and said, in a voice much steadier than he felt, “no, thank you,”

“Aw, come on, Harry. It’ll be fun, I promise,” the girl practically purred, gliding her finger back up to trace his jaw.

“I’d really rather not, thanks,” Harry forced out through gritted teeth, his hand inching down towards his pocket to grab his wand.

She paused, and Harry opened his eyes just in time to see her own darken in anger. Her hand slid down to his bicep and tightened, squeezing the wiry muscle as her nails dug into his skin. “Oh? And why is that?” She asked, her eyes narrowed, and Harry visibly relaxed.

This, Harry could do. This was just another pointless fight; someone too wrapped up in their own desires to take his own feelings into consideration. Harry understood fights and arguments like he understood Quidditch. Girls, on the other hand, Harry did not understand. Girls were closer to arithmancy or divination; neither made any sort of sense to Harry, and he realized he had absolutely no interest in even trying to figure out anything about any of it. Shoving that thought aside to closer inspect at a later date, Harry carefully thumbed his wand out with his free hand, immensely grateful that she had chosen his non-wand arm to latch onto.

“Let go of me,” Harry stated calmly rather than answer her question, looking her in the eyes with the same sort of fierce determination she had when she approached him. He noticed that her friends weren’t giggling anymore, but were watching the exchange in interest. Harry didn’t know what Draco was doing other than standing off to the side like a pillock while he got accosted by crazy Ravenclaws. Probably smirking with manic glee, knowing him.

Instead of answering, her grip on his arm only tightened further as she grinned, the look almost feral as his fingers gradually started to go numb from lack of blood.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Harry said, voice quiet and even. “Let. Me. Go,” He tightened his grip on his wand, quickly skimming through the list of hexes he could immediately call to memory.

“Hmm,” she hummed, grinning at him, her hand squeezing impossibly tighter. Harry tried to discreetly wriggle his free arm up without touching her, slowly raising the tip of his wand. “I don’t think so, Harry, I-” 

“ _ Furnunculus _ ,” Harry hissed, watching in grim fascination as the hex shot towards her face, enveloping it in a jet of light.

The Ravenclaw recoiled with a deafening shriek and stumbled backwards, her hands immediately clutching at her face in desperation. Harry shook his arm out as it tingled, trying his hardest to reign in the mocking smile his lips seemed to desperately want to produce as he watched the large, disgusting boils grow all over the girl’s face.

“Nice one,” Draco said, standing beside him suddenly, spinning his Hawthorn wand between his fingers.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Harry grumbled, rubbing his arm as he watched the four girls go scampering off, the brown-haired one crying as she covered her face with her hands was being led through the halls by the other three.

“What did you want me to do? You’re the one that bested a bloody dragon, and yet you can’t handle a fifth year girl? Please,” Draco scoffed, pocketing his wand. “You could’ve just said yes to her, you know. Would have saved you a lot of hassle,”

“Are you kidding me? She’s insane!” Harry nearly shouted. “She kept touching me and- and breathing on me!” Harry shivered in disgust, forcing the memory out of his mind. “She got mad when I told her no! Why would I say yes to any of  _ that _ ?”

“She wasn’t bad looking, though,” Draco said, rather idiotically, in Harry’s opinion. “You do need a date to the ball, don’t you?”

“I’m being forced to find one, but I’d rather not be groped in front of three different schools, thanks.” Harry fumed, harshly shoving his own wand back into the pocket of his robes. Draco snickered.

“Isn’t that every fourteen year old boy’s dream? Being groped by a pretty girl,” Draco said, a strange tone to his voice that Harry couldn’t identify.

“Not mine, thanks,” Harry grumbled as they forced their way through the crowds to wherever Draco had been leading him before. “Think I’d rather go up against a dragon again than being forced to attend the Yule Ball with a girl. Less chance of getting bitten that way, I’d reckon,”

Draco laughed, tossing his head back and Harry was suddenly hit with the force of it. The open joy and amusement on the blond’s face made him look much younger and friendlier than Harry would have thought. The way his grey eyes seemed to shine through the slit of his eyelids as he looked at Harry with a wide grin made his breath catch. 

He quickly averted his eyes, fighting back the random flush he could feel creeping up his neck as they walked on, stopping in a corridor not far from Gryffindor Tower. 

“Is that the only reason then, Potty? Afraid to get bit?” Draco teased, his cheeks dusted a light pink.

“No,” Harry snorted, scuffing the toe of his trainer against the stones. “I also doubt I’d be forced to dance with a dragon as well. And even if I was, I’d have to bollocks it up pretty badly to step on a dragon’s toes,”

“Why would you step on a dragon’s toes?” Draco’s brows drew together.

“Because I can’t dance?” Harry said, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“Were you never taught?”

“I was raised by muggles, remember?”

“Muggles still dance, don’t they?”

“Well yes, but-” Harry huffed impatiently, not wanting to get into that right now. “I was never taught how to dance, is the point. Why’d we stop here?” Harry asked in a bid to change the subject.

Draco flapped a hand impatiently. “So you can go get your little egg, Potty. Didn’t Professor McGonagall give your house a lesson on dancing after the announcement?”

“That egg is nearly the size of my head!” Harry exclaimed. “And of course she did. Doesn’t mean that I didn’t end up stepping on my partner’s toes the entire time though,”

“Of course,” Draco snorted. “Go get your egg, we’ll discuss your abysmal dancing skills once we’re outside.”

“Outside? It’s December!”

“Ever heard of a warming charm, Potty? Now go, I’ll wait here,” 

Harry groaned and turned towards Gryffindor Tower, vowing to take his time and possibly add an additional layer of clothes over the ones he was wearing as well.

***

“What happened?” Harry frowned when he walked into the common room, taking in the scene before him. Ron was sitting on the couch, his face pale and vacant as Ginny sat next to him, rubbing his shoulder and talking lowly to him. 

Harry approached slowly and lowered himself into an armchair next to the couch, watching the two Weasleys in confusion.

“Why did I do that?” Ron suddenly moaned, covering his face in his hands as he sank even lower into the couch. “I feel so bloody ridiculous,”

“What happened?” Harry asked again, looking between the two of them.

“He just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him,” Ginny answered him, glancing up at him with twitching lips as she squeezed Ron’s shoulder sympathetically.

“What?” Harry asked in astonishment, watching as Ron’s ears became steadily brighter.

“I don’t even know what made me do it!” Ron lamented, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the embarrassment. “One minute, I was just walking down the hallway, and then next I was- I-” Ron groaned.

“Well,” Harry said thoughtfully, “Fleur’s loss then, right?”

“She looked at me as if I was some kind of slug that just crawled up from the bottom of the lake, Harry! Didn’t even answer me. The moment I realized what I was doing, I booked it back here,” Ron buried his face in his hands even deeper. Harry cracked a small smile.

“Well, I practically got jumped by a fifth year Ravenclaw about the dance and had to hex her face full of boils to get her away from me, if that makes you feel any better,” Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Of course you’d have the problem of keeping girls  _ away  _ from you, rather than trying to get them to talk to you,” Ron scoffed, turning away.

“Oh yes, I completely forgot that was all my fault. Ever so sorry,” Harry’s voice hardened and he stood up to go to his dorm when Hermione climbed through the portrait hole.

“Hey Harry, Ron- what happened?” Hermione’s smile faltered when she registered the tense atmosphere.

“Er, well Ron asked Fleur to the ball and she didn’t even feel the need to speak to turn him down,” Ginny said slowly, looking between the two boys curiously. “And Harry said something about being cornered by a Ravenclaw and having to hex her to get her away from him, and..” She trailed off helplessly, but Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she took in Harry’s stiff stance and Ron’s turned back.

“I see,” Hermione murmured, looking at Harry questioningly.

“I’m just going to get my egg and some warm clothes,” Harry raised his hands and turned back towards the boys’ dorms.

“Why do you need warm clothes?” Hermione asked, confusion marring her features.

“Apparently,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Draco’s dragging me outside to study the etchings on the egg, and he probably didn’t want to be in the school in case we open it up again. Don’t want to get banned from a corridor or anything like that,”

“Of course you are,” Ron muttered, rather loudly. “You seem to be spending all your bloody time with the pointy git nowadays,”

“ _ Ronald _ ,” Hermione hissed, glancing worriedly at Harry.

“No, Hermione, it’s okay,” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “If he wants to act like a child about the whole thing, just let him, I say,” Harry went up the steps to his dorm quickly, closing the door and gathering his things. Shrugging on an extra thick cloak for warmth, Harry went back down to the common room, ignoring the three still huddled around the couch, and slammed door to the portrait hole on his way out.

***

“What took you so long?” Draco scowled as Harry approached, pushing himself off the wall and meeting Harry in the middle of the corridor.

Harry forced a smile. It felt more like a grimace. “Poor ickle Ronniekins got his feelings hurt again,”

“Oh?” Draco asked, intrigued. “Dare I ask what happened this time?”

So Harry told him, leaving nothing out and recounting what happened to Ron with Fleur with an almost vicious glee. 

“Serves him right to make a fool out of himself,” the blond had said, chuckling at the bit about a slug.

Draco had frowned at Ron’s reaction to Harry trying to cheer him up by covering a girl in pimples, and the frown stayed in place throughout the rest of the encounter. When Harry had finished, Draco snorted and just shook his head in exasperation.

“Do you think that the weasel is ever going to learn when to keep his mouth shut?” 

“I doubt it,” Harry said, pulling open the door leading out to the grounds, their shoes crunching with every step on the snow.

“There’s nothing you can do about it, unfortunately. Except maybe snag a date for the ball before he does,” Draco eyes lit up as he smirked suddenly, and Harry didn’t like it one bit. “Also a better looking one as well, which shouldn’t be hard with as many freckles as the weasel’s got,”

Harry snorted. “Just a few flaws in that brilliant plan of yours, Draco,”

“Oh?” Draco said, looking startled as he glanced at Harry. “And what flaws might those be?”

“Well, once word gets around about me casting hexes at any potential dates, I’m sure it’ll knock my heroic appeal down a peg or two,” Harry joked, causing Draco to chuckle. “Plus, I don’t even want to go to the ball with a girl,” Harry grimaced. “And I still can’t dance,” he added as an afterthought.

“I’m sure it won’t turn  _ every  _ potential suitor away,” he said reasonably, and Harry glowered at him. “Besides, why not just go with a boy if you’re that averse to going with a girl?”

“What?” Harry’s voice rose a few octaves as he stared at the blond in bewilderment. “Why would I go with a boy? I’d rather not go at all,”

“Well you’ve already stated twice now that you’d do almost anything than go with a girl to the ball, including facing another dragon, so why not?” Draco shrugged. “It’s not like it’d be that big of a deal, the only real reason it’d draw attention is because you’re Harry Potter, and also a champion. It’s not like it has to mean anything. It is just one dance, after all,”

“I guess,” Harry said skeptically, eyeing the blond as he cast a few warming charms by a tree and sat down.

“Exactly,” Draco nodded. “Now that that’s all taken care of, let me see your lovely golden egg, Potty,”

“Everything but the dancing bit, but that’s a lost cause at this point anyway,” Harry said, pulling the egg out of his bag and handing it to Draco before sitting down next to him and leaning against the tree.

“Don’t be daft,” Draco scoffed, already flipping the egg every which way. “I can easily teach you to dance if you’re agreeable,”

“You’d do that?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Draco said snidely, bringing the base of the egg closer to his face.

“But what about your toes?”

“Just use the hexes you’d likely receive for scuffing up my shoes with your dirty trainers as incentive,” 

Harry’s stomach churned in a not completely unpleasant way at the idea of dancing with Draco, and he smiled, pleased.

“Thank you,”

“You’re welcome, Potty. Now shut up,”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm awful, I know. I've had this written for w e e k s and I completely forgot to post it! Gah. *slams head into the nearest wall*

Harry Potter was a lot of things, but above all, he was a Gryffindor through and through. Which meant, in a completely logical yet roundabout way, he was most certainly  _ not  _ a coward. Harry had heaps upon heaps of courage, thank you, so much that he could easily drown in it. You know, as long as it accidentally attempted to drown him first, since Harry’s track record for not dying when he most certainly should have was pretty promising so far. And thanks to that courage, Harry has bested Voldemort time and again.

Which is why Harry did not understand why his courage was suddenly failing him when it came to actually using it for something that didn’t include potentially dying a very very painful death. No, Harry’s courage had fucked right off and out the topmost tower window the moment that Draco bloody Malfoy dragged him away to  _ dance _ .

That’s how Harry had found himself shoved unceremoniously into an unused classroom on the seventh floor and forced into moving dust covered desks against the walls with a few concentrated flicks of his wand.

“Why aren’t you moving any of the desks,” he had grumbled, glaring balefully at the blond still leaning against the door frame.

“I found the room. It’s your turn to do something,” Draco had drawled, examining his nails and buffing them against his robe.

“How’s that a fair trade?” Harry muttered, moving the last of the chairs off to the side.

“Consider it as part of the payment you owe me for agreeing to this,”

“I never asked you to teach me to dance,” Harry pointed out, stowing his wand in his pocket and wiping his hands on his trousers.

“Details,” Draco cleared the floor of dust with a wave of his wand before pocketing it himself, marching right up to where Harry was standing in the middle of the room. Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“So,” Harry said, wiping his clammy hands on his robes. When had they started sweating? “How are we going to do this?”

“It’s quite simple, really. I’ll lead, you follow,” Draco walked up to Harry and stopped directly in front of him, grey eyes intent on Harry’s face. He was standing so close, Harry could make out the individual pale blue flecks of his irises.

“Er, okay,” Harry said haltingly, clenching his fists in an attempt to quell his nerves. It wasn’t working. Harry didn’t know what he meant by leading and following, exactly, but it made sense. He had no idea what he was doing, so following Draco’s lead was probably the smartest thing that he could do at the moment.

Draco nodded once, his face blank as he clasped one of Harry’s hands in his. Grabbing Harry’s free hand with his own, Draco placed it upon his shoulder before moving his own pale hand onto Harry’s waist firmly.

“Now, just follow my lead. Step when I step - no, don’t look down at your feet - look at my face. We’ll start slow,” Draco murmured, tightening his grip on Harry’s sweaty hand as he began stepping back and forth slowly, rotating slightly each time.

Harry’s face was burning, and he was glad that Draco decided against commenting on the dampness of his palms. There was no way that the blond didn’t notice it. Harry couldn’t help it as he looked down at his shoes, feeling a twinge as he took in the state of his own ratty trainers compared to the perfect shine of Draco’s tailored dress shoes.

“Stop looking at your feet,” Draco reprimanded.

“I just don’t want to get hexed for stepping on your fancy hundred-galleon shoes,” Harry defended himself, cringing as he felt his face grow impossibly hotter.

“It’ll be easier to avoid stepping on them if you’re not worrying about it,” Draco pointed out. “Besides, how do you think your date will feel if they think you find their shoes more interesting than their face?”

Harry grimaced and nodded as Draco spun him around.

“Wait a minute,” Harry said suddenly, watching Draco’s face with narrowed eyes. “Are you making me dance the girl’s part?”

“Of course,” Draco smirked. “You expect me to let you lead the dance when you can’t even follow properly?”

“I’m doing fine right now, aren’t I?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling less sure of his progress.

“Surprisingly, yes. When you’re actually looking at me,” Draco’s voice was soft, and Harry’s stomach flipped.

“Your feet are part of you too,” Harry muttered, stumbling when Draco chuckled. He felt more than heard Draco’s laugh as it vibrated through the hard chest pressed against his own. Harry’s face was so hot he was afraid that it would melt off any minute. “Sorry,” he said, looking away in embarrassment as he tried to disentangle his limbs out of Draco’s embrace.

“Hey, don’t be,” cold fingers lightly trapped Harry’s chin and raised his head, forcing Harry to look up. Draco’s eyes were sharp and penetrating, and Harry couldn’t move even if he wanted to.“You’re doing much better than I thought you would,”

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said, aiming for sarcasm but only managing some combination of shaky and breathless, which he didn’t even think he was even able to produce..

“Let’s try again. Maybe you need a distraction to keep your mind off of what’s happening on the floor,” Draco’s eyes roamed Harry’s face, and Harry  _ felt  _ it. It felt like a bug; something with a thousand legs just leisurely strolling across his cheeks and chin, up over his nose and around his forehead. It was just  _ there _ and it made Harry’s face tingle. Definitely bug-like, Harry determined, what with the way his blood seemed to be creepy-crawling it’s way through his entire body and up to his cheeks. Maybe a thousand bugs. Oh, Merlin.

“Okay, distraction,” Harry licked his lips and took a deep breath, taking in the way Draco’s eyes seemed to widen infestimatally from the motion. “Who are you taking to the ball?”

Draco’s face dropped immediately into a grimace. “I got suckered into taking Pansy,” his eyes lit up again, “but she’s brilliant company, so it could definitely be worse. Have you asked anybody yet?” Draco moved his hands back into position and urged Harry to do the same.

“No,” Harry shuddered. “I don’t want to go with anybody, really. If it weren’t for being a champion, I wouldn’t have to bother with it at all,”

“Why don’t you just use that to your advantage, then?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No?” Draco spun them around again. “Why would I be? Just use your champion status to sucker some poor soul in to dancing just one dance with you, and then be done with it.”

“I can’t do that, though,” Harry grimaced as they rotated, mentally cursing whoever thought that dancing was a good thing to introduce to children. It was torture.

“And why not?”

“Because they would want more from me! They would want me to dance more, and spend time with them and talk with them and.. And they’d probably try touching me like that one girl did! I don’t want to deal with a touchy-feely teenager,” Harry complained, staring morosely across Draco’s shoulder and towards the grubby window. An owl swooped passed outside. Lucky bastard.

“Well, it’s not like you have much time left, Potty. Just ask someone for one dance, and be specific.  _ One  _ dance,”

“Right,” Harry scoffed, “because that’s going to go over well.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Draco sounded amused as he spun them in a circle, but Harry didn’t dare risk moving his face. “The ball is in four days, or have you forgotten? Just use your status to drag someone along to dance, and then ditch them the moment it’s over.”

“Then who do you think I should ask,” Harry said in a tone that was most definitely not considered a whine.

Draco merely shrugged, unconcerned. “Granger? One of the other unfortunate Gryffindors scattered about? Or how about a lovely little Hufflepuff for you, so that you wouldn’t risk the chance of them not understanding and being offended?”

“I can’t,” Harry groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“You can,” Draco mimicked his tone, grimacing. “Stop whining, or you’ll risk scaring everyone else away before you’ve even the chance to ask them,”

“I’m not whining!”

“Yes you are,” Draco sighed, pausing them mid-step and taking a step away. “That’s enough dancing for now, I think. You seem to certainly have the hang of it enough so as to not make too grand a fool of yourself. You’d be better off using the rest of your time actually attempting to find a date instead of wallowing in your own lonely misery,”

“I’m not wallowing!” Harry griped, letting go of Draco’s hands and wiping them off on his robes. His fingers were tingling.

“But you will be,” Draco smirked as he backed towards the door. “Good luck Potty!” He called over his shoulder as he turned and exited the room.

Harry cursed as he looked around the room, refusing to put everything back in its place, if only to make himself feel better.

***

“The Yule Ball is in  _ three days _ , Harry,” Hermione reprimanded him, placing her hands on her hips.

As if he didn’t already know that. Why else would he come to Hermione if he knew he was already doomed? She’d gotten him out of even tighter spots before because Hermione was wonderful like that. Harry wondered why he had been so mad at her the past couple of months.

“Even Ron had managed to get a date with Padma Patil,”  _ Oh, right. Ron. _ Harry grimaced.

Hermione continued, ignoring Harry’s look of dismay. “And I overheard him talking to Seamus yesterday, and apparently Parvati doesn’t have a date yet either,”

“I’m not asking Parvati to the dance,” Harry swore, pacing back and forth in front of the couch in the deserted common room.

“And why not?” Hermione’s tone was dangerous, as if daring Harry to continue. Harry dared.

“Because she’s a girl?” Harry answered, arms splaying out wildly. Thoroughly confused, Hermione dropped her hands back to her sides and furrowed her brows in thought.

“A girl?” Was her faint reply, although Harry didn’t know if she was talking to herself or not.

“Yes,” Harry sighed, sinking into an armchair. “I can’t go to the ball with a girl,” Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry quickly continued, cutting her off. “Not that I have anything against girls! I just,” Harry trailed off, scrunching his nose in frustration.

“‘Nothing against girls’?” Hermione stated, her eyes unfocused. “Harry, are you- that is to say, is this.. Well,” she seemed to steel herself; taking a deep breath, she ploughed on. “Are you wanting to go to the ball with a boy, then?” 

“That’s what Draco had suggested, but I wouldn’t know where to start with that, either. I’d rather not go at all,” Burying his face in his hands, Harry sighed.

“You know as well as I do that you don’t really have a choice in the matter, Harry. Why don’t you just ask Malfoy to go with you to the ball then if you don’t want to ask anybody else?” Hermione’s face scrunched up at the thought, but Harry was grateful that she was trying.

“He’s already going with Pansy Parkinson,” scrubbing his hands down his face in frustration, Harry leaned back in the chair and shook his head. “Plus, he’s already doing enough for me. I couldn’t ask him to ditch his date as well.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be ditching her, would it? You’ve said so yourself,” Hermione’s voice had that excited tone to it, the one she got when she was about to solve a problem that Harry or Ron was too stupid to figure out. “You’re only wanting to go to the ball with someone solely for the champion’s dance, right? Well, the champions open the dance with their partners while everyone else watches, and then after the first dance is over, couples have free reign of the dance floor! You’d only need to convince Parkinson to let you borrow Malfoy for the first dance!” Hermione finished and took a deep breath, the sides of her mouth turning up at the corners.

“That’s a great plan, ‘Mione, really. But I don’t even know if Draco would want to open the dance with me in the first place, much less that I’d be able to convince Parkinson to give him up at all,”

“You won’t know until you ask him, now will you? You probably shouldn’t spring it upon them the day before, though. We’ve still got about an hour until curfew, but he’s probably already in the Slytherin common room.” she pointed out, reaching for one of Harry’s hands and squeezing it. “Maybe you could ask him tomorrow at breakfast?”

“Okay,” Harry said, squeezing her hand back and closing his eyes. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stood and tugged on her fingers until she stood up and swept her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost 8,000 words? Me? Wack.

Harry would have figured that with everything he had gone through so far just during this school year, he wouldn’t have a problem going to sit at the Slytherin table again. Of course, his famous Gryffindor courage was still hiding itself away from anything concerning Draco that was more than a conversation or study session.

Thankfully, the Slytherins as a whole weren’t as openly malevolent as they were before. Being friends with Draco seemed to have that as a benefit, at least. Especially when the school inevitably divided itself against Harry again, he’d probably have less hostility from the Slytherins. They seemed the type to find more humor in Harry’s humiliation and poke fun at him anyway. Harry hoped, at least.

“Oh, look who it is,” Parkinson smirked, drawing the attention of the rest of the table to Harry’s approach. Draco just cocked an eyebrow in question over the rim of his pumpkin juice. “Did you have a falling out with the Gryffindors again?”

“No,” Harry shook his head and sat down across from Draco and beside Crabbe, twisting himself to look behind him.

“Really,” Parkinson deadpanned, pointedly looking towards the Gryffindor tables. “Judging from the glares you’re getting from the ginger heads over there, I’d say otherwise.”

“That’s probably just because I’m sitting over here in the first place, rather than because they’re mad at me. Well,” Harry amended as he began heaping food onto the plate that appeared before him, “Ron is probably still mad at me, but the rest don’t have any reasons as far as I’m aware,”

“Do you think they might be jealous?” Parkinson’s grin was full of teeth and just a bit too cruel for Harry’s liking.

“Perhaps,” Harry shrugged, taking a rather large bite of toast. “What’s it matter if they are?”

Parkinson wrinkled her nose at his blatant lack of manners, “I think we could have quite a bit of fun. Don’t you think so, Draco?” She turned a pleading look on the blond.

“Who’s to say that I’m not already having fun with it?” Draco drained the rest of his goblet and let it vanish when he placed it onto the table.

“What do you mean you’re already having fun with it? When I’m not with you, I’m with them,” Harry pointed out, smothering his grin with a forkful of eggs.

“Do you think that I’m  _ not  _ abusing the information I manage to glean out of you about the rest of the Gryffindors? Who says I’m not using you, Potter?” Draco gave a haughty sniff as he pushed his plate away and watched it disappear as well to join his goblet.

“Right. Dance lessons is a surefire way to get information about your opposition,” Harry snickered.

“Dance lessons?” Parkinson cackled loudly, much to Draco’s irritation.

“ _ Must  _ you,” Draco hissed, his cheeks pink and grey eyes blazing.

“Oh no,” Parkinson wiped away a tear and grinned at Draco. “I absolutely need to hear more about these ‘lessons’,” She air quoted before laughing again, drawing curious glances from the other students at the table.

“Just drop it, Pans,” Draco glared at her, but she didn't seem fazed. In fact, it only seemed to humor her more.

“I will not! Potter,” Parkinson barked, causing Harry to jump slightly. “Is he really giving you  _ dance  _ lessons?”

“Oh absolutely,” Harry grinned, all too happy to avoid the death glare directed at him by a certain blond. The kick to Harry’s shin, however, was a bit harder to ignore.

“I have got to see this,” Parkinson clapped her hands together and grinned maniacally, looking between the two boys.

“No. No no no, Pansy. Absolutely not,” Draco said, staring at Parkinson intently. She stared right back, pleading with her eyes. “No! He would never agree with it, anyway. Would you, Potty?”

“ _ Potty _ ?” Parkinson snorted. Both boys ignored her.

“Actually,” Harry started nervously, still unsure about whether this was a good idea or not. He bit his lip in thought, wincing internally at Draco’s narrowed eyes and surreptitiously wiped his hands on his robes, clenching the cloth in his hands. “I have a proposition for you, if you’re agreeable?” Harry did not like how nervous his voice sounded.

Draco’s eyes narrowed even further, if possible. “What do I get out of it?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Harry stammered, blushing furiously. This was  _ mortifying _ . “Whatever you want.. within reason?”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, seeming to think on it for a moment before answering. “Alright, what’s your golden idea?”

Rolling his eyes at the awful joke, Harry felt slightly less embarrassed about the whole thing. He met Draco’s eyes and shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “I need someone to open the dance at the Yule Ball with, and I can’t find anyone else to go with me,”

“There’s no way you can’t find a date to the ball, Potter,” Parkinson answered, talking over Draco’s protest of “I’m already going with Pansy!”

“See? That’s exactly the problem. I don’t want a bloody date to the ball. I just need someone to open the champion’s dance with me, and then we’ll both be on our merry way,” Harry pointed out, trying not to feel too despondent at the rejection he knew he was most likely going to get.

“Potter, I highly doubt-” Draco started to say, but Parkinson cut him off abruptly.

“And you’re asking Draco to go with you?” Her tone was incredulous, but her eyes had a mischievous gleam to them. Harry didn’t like it one bit.

“Er, yeah?”

“Are you  _ gay _ ?” She whispered and leaned forward, not that that stopped anyone from listening in if they wanted to.

“Dunno. I never really thought about it, I guess. What?” Harry hunched his shoulders slightly as Draco and Parkinson both looked at him oddly.

“How do you not know?” Parkinson asked, still eyeing Harry curiously.

“I just never had a reason to question it. Still don’t, really,”

“You don’t think going to the ball with a boy is cause enough to question it?” She asked, disbelief colouring her tone.

“No? I just don’t want to go with a girl. They’re too touchy,” Harry shuddered, thinking of that Ravenclaw girl.

“Right, Potter had a rather unfortunate encounter with a fellow student not that long ago,” Draco snickered. Harry shot him a warning look.

“Ooh, what happened?” Parkinson leaned forward even more, pushing her plate aside carelessly.

“He covered her in boils,” Draco’s smirked, obviously still pleased with the memory.

“How disgusting,” she wrinkled her nose, but Harry saw her mouth tick up at the corner. “Don’t worry, Potter. I wouldn’t touch you with a broomstick,”

“Fantastic. They why don’t you open the ball with me, Pansy?” Harry joked, smilingly almost sweetly at her and batting his eyelashes. It felt strange to say her actual name without following it with ‘Parkinson’.

“Not on your life, Potter,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Harry sighed dejectedly, leaning back in his seat. “A man can dream,”

“Stop trying to steal my date, Potty,” Draco scowled, but his eyes were dancing in amusement.

“You can’t really blame him for trying to do better though, can you Draco?” She smiled innocently.

“Take that back you horrendous cow!” 

“You know it’s true,” Parkinson singsonged, patting Draco’s shoulder consolingly.

“I would never admit such a blatant lie,”

“Anyway,” Harry cut in, smilingly slightly, “If that’s all, I’m going to go back to the Gryffindor table and hopefully get the questioning over and done with before class,” Harry pushed his plate away and made to stand up, but was stopped by Parkinson’s voice.

“If you must, although I would love to listen in during Snape’s class for someone else’s misery to focus on. Just be sure to be at the bottom of the Grand Staircase by no later than seven pm, Potter,” she picked up her goblet and took a drink.

“Er, tonight?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t be daft. On Sunday,” Parkinson smiled behind her pumpkin juice.

“You’re seriously going to go with him?” Draco asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ and grinned. “You are,”

“You’re joking,” Draco stated, glaring at her. She still didn’t seem very bothered by it.

“Seven, Potter. Don’t be late!” She shooed Harry off, much to Harry’s confusion and Draco’s frustration. Not knowing what else to do, Harry inclined his head and turned, listening to their hushed argument fade into the background. 

Oddly enough, he wasn’t too concerned by their bickering. Harry just hoped that Draco was still as easy to bait into a challenge as he was before they became friends.

“Morning Harry,” Hermione greeted, smiling warmly up at him as he approached the Gryffindor table. “How’d it go?”

“Er, good. I think so, anyway,” Harry answered as he sat, reaching over and tugging her discarded copy of the Daily Prophet towards himself. It didn’t seem to have anything interesting in it, but Harry was sure Hermione had already scoured it from cover to cover.

“So you asked him, then?”

“Yeah, I did. Somewhat. Actually, I ended up asking Parkinson and she ended up pushing him into it,” Harry snorted.

“Was that your intention? Asking her and getting him to agree?” Hermione asked as she looked down the table at the other Gryffindors openly watching the two talk. Harry glared at them.

“Not really. It was more of a joke, but it worked out well enough,” Harry shrugged and pushed the paper back towards her, knowing that she’d end up keeping it with the rest of the stash she had in her room, no matter how boring the copy was.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got that settled. Have you made any more progress on your egg?”

Harry winced, knowing that he hadn’t gotten anywhere near where he probably should be on the clue for the next task.

“Harry,” Hermione admonished, looking at him imploringly. “You know you need to figure it out soon. Why don’t you dedicate your free period today to researching it more?”

“After the ball? Please, ‘Mione. I won’t be able to concentrate what with knowing that I’ll have to make a complete fool of myself in two days’ time,” Harry folded his arms on the table and pouted, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes.

“You know I can’t force you, Harry,” she sighed, frowning. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you and knowing that it could have easily been prevented by being prepared,”

Guilt twisted in Harry’s stomach at her words. She was right, and Harry didn’t want to hurt her because he was too lazy to study. Harry reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know. I promise I’ll look into it more after the ball is over, okay? I swear,”

Hermione smiled and squeezed his hand back in thanks. She opened her mouth to speak, but flinched instead as the loud clatter of plates being pushed aside roughly cut her off. Turning sharply, Harry only saw the back of Ron as he walked briskly away from the table, and out of the hall.

“Well,” Harry spoke quietly, glancing back at Hermione’s red face. “At least he didn’t make much of a scene this time,”

Hermione snorted humorlessly, squeezing Harry’s hand once more before withdrawing her own and pushing her own plates away gently.

***

Molly Weasley was truly a godsend, even if her son could be a right bloody wanker when he wanted to be.

Knowing that Harry didn’t really have anybody else to obtain dress robes for the Yule Ball, mainly because Sirius was still in hiding, she had managed to purchase a new set of robes for Harry and sent them to him during breakfast. They were lovely, really. Perfectly soft and black, with a plain white undershirt and matching black tie. The shoes were a shiny black as well, correctly sized and even came with a pair of black socks. Harry loved them, and was extremely grateful that she had chosen a set that was nice enough, yet almost boring in color so as to not stand out. Ron, however, wasn’t so lucky.

“What the bloody hell are these?” Ron exclaimed, holding the maroon colored fabric as far away from himself as possible. “Ginny, I think Mum sent these to me by mistake. They must be yours,”

“Oh they’re absolutely meant for you,” Ginny snickered, poking at a lacy fringe along one of the sleeves.

“You’re joking,” Ron moaned, eyes wide, “what am I supposed to do with these?”

“They’re for the ball, Ron,” Hermione answered, rolling her eyes as she flipped a page of the  _ Daily Prophet.  _

Ron’s nose scrunched up. “But why are they so..” 

“Flamboyant?” Harry grinned to himself, stuffing his plain black robes back into the box and standing up. “Beats me. But hey, at least they match the shade of your face,” stepping away quickly so as to avoid getting hexed, Harry went back up to the dorms to hide the box in his trunk.

***

Harry woke up bright and early on Christmas morning, no small thanks to Dobby the House Elf, who was leaning so close to his face all Harry could make out was a large pair of bulbous green eyes. After the initial panic, Harry and Dobby exchanged gifts (Harry gifted Dobby with an old pair of hideous yellow socks that he was sure used to belong to Vernon, and Dobby making Harry a pair of mismatched wool socks with brooms on one and snitches on the other), Harry opened the rest of his gifts while being studiously ignored by Ron in the next bed over. 

Seeing as Harry had no intentions of giving in, Harry didn’t get Ron a present this year and, unsurprisingly, didn’t receive one from Ron either. The only thing worse than not getting anything from Ron - apology or otherwise - was the plain white tissue Harry had gotten from the Dursleys. More useful was the book about Quidditch teams Hermione had sent, along with a rather wicked penknife from Sirius with attachments that could lock or unlock most locks and untangle almost any knot. Hagrid had sent along a large box filled to the brim with all of Harry’s favourite sweets, and Mrs. Weasley had sent him a new green Weasley sweater with a large knitted dragon on it - no doubt due to the first task - and a bunch of homemade pies that had Harry’s mouth watering.

Despite the wonderful smell of the pies, the thought of actually eating anything had Harry’s stomach rolling rather unpleasantly. Christmas morning was great, but knowing that he would have to make a fool of himself in just a little over twelve hours was putting quite a damper on the holiday cheer.

Breakfast was a surprisingly civil affair, Ron didn’t comment on the new Weasley sweater that Harry insisted on wearing, and Hermione thanked him for the books he got her. After breakfast, Harry decided to visit the Owlery to give some treats to Hedwig and use the silence to finally read the letter that Sirius had sent him a few days ago. Pulling the parchment out of his robes and leaning against the railing, Harry opened the letter as Hedwig flew down beside him and nipped at his fingers.

_ Dear Harry,  _ Sirius had written.

_ Congratulations on getting passed the Horntail. Whoever put your name in the Goblet of Fire shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis Curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point, but your way was better. I’m impressed. _

_ Don’t get complacent though, Harry. You’ve only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament’s got plenty more opportunity if they’re trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open - particularly if the person we discussed is around - and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. _

_ Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual. _

_ -Sirius _

Harry chewed on the end of his quill, lost in thought. On one hand, Harry was filled with a giddy sort of warmth that Sirius was proud of him for overcoming the Hungarian Horntail. At the same time, though, the brief mention of keeping his eyes open around Igor Karkaroff was just as unsettling as it was when Sirius had told Harry through the floo the man used to be a Death Eater. It just didn’t add up, no matter how deceptive Sirius claimed Karkaroff was.

Shaking his head to clear it, Harry dipped his quill in the ink pot he brought with him and began to write.

_ Dear Sirius, _

_ Thank you, it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, going up against a dragon. Only problem with the tasks I have now is that I can’t figure out the clue for the life of me. Hermione has tried to help somewhat - mainly by telling me to study more - but it just isn’t working. Ron is giving me the cold shoulder, first by being crazy enough to think that I had signed myself up for the tournament in the first place, and now he’s jealous of the fact that I’m famous and keeps making it out to be like its all my fault. Honestly, at this point I’m just tired of it all. Ron is jealous and angry all the time, acting like the last four years of our friendship never happened, and Hermione is stuck between us trying to placate the other when our tempers go unchecked. I just want this tournament to be done and over with already. _

_ On a more positive note, I made a new friend. Hermione has warmed up to it, but the idea of me being around my new friend does nothing but stoke Ron’s temper more. He’s-  _

Harry put down his quill and bit his lip, contemplating. Should he tell Sirius about Draco? Probably not, but then again, not telling Sirius who his ‘new friend’ is would just raise more questions and concerns from his godfather, wouldn’t it? Besides, Harry thought, it isn’t like Sirius would be able to keep Harry away from Draco for the rest of the school year, at least until summer, and even then he could try to convince the older man that the youngest Malfoy isn’t a threat just because of who his father is. Reasoning that the worst that would happen is an angry letter from Sirius, Harry continued writing. 

_ -a really decent bloke once you get to know him. He’s the one that originally helped me study about dragons, and came up with the idea to use a broom to maneuver around instead of only dodging and firing spells to get through the first task. As for the second task, he’s been helping me study the clue after classes and on the weekends, but we’ve both been coming up empty. He’s a great friend, honestly. I don’t think I could ask for anyone better to stand beside me this year. He’s even agreed to open the champion’s dance for the Yule Ball with me, seeing as every girl is either taken or absolutely nutters.  He’s got a sharp tongue and an attitude to match, and he doesn’t even care that I’m a ‘champion’ or ‘The Boy Who Lived’. He never really has, honestly. I’m sure you’d like him if you gave him a chance. _

_ The only part about him that I’m sure you’d hate is his family, but that’s not really his fault, is it? Anyway, I’m pretty sure he’s your cousin, if I’m remembering things correctly. It’s Draco Malfoy, in case you hadn’t seen or believed that unfortunate article written by Skeeter after the first task about us being in a relationship. Draco Malfoy, who is absolutely not his father in any way and has been helping me and supporting me throughout this whole school year when everyone else had turned their backs on me and had stayed beside me when even Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger had cut me off. Draco’s been the greatest friend these past few months, and I couldn’t be more grateful for him. I’m sorry if you have a problem with him because of who his parents are, but Draco isn’t like them. I just want you to be able to give him the chance I gave him, if you’re ever put in a position to do so. _

_ I have to start getting ready for the Yule Ball tonight, but I’ll be sure to keep you updated on anything that may happen between now and the next task. Take care of yourself, and Buckbeak as well.  _

_ Happy Christmas _

_ -Harry _

After sealing the letter shut, Harry called one of the school owls down and tied the roll of parchment to the leg it stuck out.

“Sorry girl, but you know I can’t use you right now,” Harry murmured, stroking Hedwig’s irritatedly fluffed up feathers and offering her another treat.

When he arrived back at the school, he went straight to the crowded showers and cleaned himself up before going up to his dorm to put his dress robes on. The rest of his dorm mates were inside getting ready as well, and Harry absolutely did  _ not _ laugh at the look on Ron’s face when he put his own frilly dress robes on. Digging through his trunk, Harry pulled out the box that his dress robes came in and huffed when he couldn’t find the matching black socks that came with them. Shrugging, Harry opted for using the pair that Dobby had made for him instead, figuring that nobody else would be looking inside his shoes anyway. Pulling his own robes on and tying his tie as neatly as he could, Harry left, waving goodbye to the rest of his friends as he exited the room to wait at the bottom of the Grand Staircase.

*** 

“Who knew you could clean up so well, Potter?” Parkinson’s voice cut through Harry’s thoughts as he leaned against the banister, waiting nervously for the two Slytherins to show up. The first thing Harry saw upon turning around was Parkinson’s shark like grin, and.. a very frilly, very pale pink dress clinging to her curvy frame.

“Er, thanks. Uh, nice dress?” Harry stammered, cheeks coloring in embarrassment. 

Beside her, Draco snorted and Parkinson shot him a sharp look even as she said, “thank you, Potter. Now, this is how we’re going to do things,” her eyes gleamed as she spoke, and Harry suddenly felt like this was a  _ horrid  _ idea. Glancing at Draco, Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the pure black, velvet dress robes the blond had on. The robes were very form fitting, accentuating his lithe frame, with a high collar that drew attention to his slim neck. The black velvet only made his fair skin and hair stand out in sharp contrast. Harry swallowed roughly when Draco’s gaze met his.

“You’ll go in first, obviously, but wait by the doors while Draco escorts me inside because I want pictures of our entrance. Then, I’ll hand him off to you for the opening dance, and once that’s completed, I’ll meet you both out on the floor so that you can hand him back off to me. Sound good?” Parkinson’s voice was cheerful, which eased Harry’s nerves only a little bit. He wouldn’t be completely calm until after this whole mess was over.

“Yeah, great,” Harry answered.

“Yes,  _ fantastic. _ I positively  _ adore  _ being talked about like a collared pet,” Draco grumbled, glaring at Parkinson.

Parkinson just flapped a hand at him. “Don’t be so dramatic, it doesn’t suit you,”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when the corridor got quiet. Almost immediately after, students were chattering louder than before, and Harry looked around to find the source of the noise.

“Is that  _ Granger _ ?” Pansy stage whispered, brown eyes wide in disbelief as she stared at the top of the Grand Staircase. Whipping around, Harry looked up and spotted Hermione, who was slowly descending the stairs in a light and flowy dress that was beautiful shade of periwinkle-blue, her once bushy hair was styled into an elegantly sleek and shiny updo, and she was walking with the kind of ease and grace that Harry had become associated with after spending so much time around Draco. Her smile was bright and brilliant, if a little shy. She looked beautiful.

The moment she reached the landing, Harry stepped up to her and pulled her into a hug. 

“You look amazing, ‘Mione,” he whispered into her hair, and he felt more than heard her nervous laugh as she squeezed him tightly.

“Thank you,” Hermione pulled back and grinned at him, her brown eyes shining. “You look great as well, Harry. Those robes really suit you,”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled back before stepping away. “I have to go, but I’ll see you on the dance floor,”

“You will,” Hermione winked and turned around before disappearing into the crowd of students.

Shaking his head in bemusement, Harry walked back to Draco and Parkinson and the three of them got in line to enter the Great Hall.

The pass off went smoothly, Parkinson smiled sweetly and posed with Draco before turning and immediately offering his arm to Harry. No sooner than Harry curled his arm through Draco’s and turned back into the corridor, McGonagall was calling for the champions to make their way to the doors on the other end of the entrance hall for the opening dance.

They were almost to the doors when Draco stopped walking, his arm around Harry’s yanking him to a standstill as well. 

“Before we go in, I brought something for you,” Draco said, turning fully towards Harry as he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small, silver brooch in the shape of a dragon. The dragon’s mouth was open, its teeth fastening an even smaller emerald in place. Harry stared at it, unsure what to say.

“It was something my parents gave me before I came to Hogwarts,” Draco explained, reaching out and fastening the clip onto the lapel of his robes. “Mother sent it to me after the pictures of the first task came out - I don’t know why - but it reminded me of you, and I thought that it would suit you. It matches your eyes,” Draco was rambling as he straightened up the dragon pin and then immediately moved his hands over to re-knot Harry’s tie before tugging on the collar of his white dress shirt. He sounded nervous, and Harry found it utterly charming.

“Draco,” Harry spoke quietly, reaching up to still the Slytherin’s hands and bring them down between them slowly. “I love it, it was extremely thoughtful. Thank you,”

Grey eyes shot up to Harry’s and crinkled slightly at the corners from a poorly concealed smirk. “Of course you do; I have excellent taste,”

Harry snorted, smiling slightly when a bright flash from their left went off, causing Harry to whip around in frustration. Glaring at the reporter that was there to document the Yule Ball, Harry inhaled sharply and opened his mouth, but Draco beat him to it.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Draco chided gently, moving his grip around to Harry’s wrist and tugging him towards the doors. “We need to get going, before they send out a search party for their missing champion,”

Harry nodded and took a deep breath, barely calming himself down for what was to come as they passed through the doors.

“Oh, there you are,” McGonagall bustled over, her stern gaze piercing Harry as he winced and mumbled out an apology. Her eyes narrowed slightly when they brushed over Draco, but she didn’t say anything as she ushered them towards area where the other champions were standing with their respective dates. 

“ _ Granger _ is Viktor Krum’s date?” Draco hissed, his eyes glued to the couple across from the space they were directed to stand.

“You’re kidding,” Harry grinned at Hermione and she smiled back brightly, expression never faltering even as she nodded to Draco in acknowledgement before Krum snagged her attention again.

“You mean you didn’t know?” Draco asked accusingly, glaring at Harry.

“Not a clue,” Harry chirped, smiling at Draco, which only made the blond’s expression darken further. 

“Really,” he deadpanned, searching Harry’s face for a lie.

“I really didn’t know, Draco. She kept it a secret from everybody,”

Draco hummed, attention diverted as they were all ushered through another set of doors and towards the top table, where the judges were all sitting, along with Percy Weasley, of all people. Harry blushed fiercely when the students began applauding their entrance, opting to tune them out lest his nerves get the best of him sooner than necessary.

Harry glanced around the Great Hall, taking in all the changes made for the Yule Ball. Gone were the House tables and normal decorations. The tables were replaced with about a hundred or so smaller, circular tables with a dozen chairs placed at each. The walls were covered in a sheen layer of silvery frost and garlands of ivy and mistletoe were crisscrossing across the enchanted ceiling, the plants backlit by a brilliant starry night sky.

Steadying himself, Harry and Draco sat at the table, Harry directly next to Percy upon his pointed request and immediately launched into an explanation about being promoted to Barty Crouch Senior’s personal assistant. Harry smiled and asked questions, listening with half an ear as he kept the other half of his focus on Draco, who was sitting silently and stiffly and overly formal, in Harry’s opinion.

When Dumbledore picked up his menu and called out what he wanted, the rest of the table soon followed suit. Harry had asked for goulash, since he’s never tried it before and thought the name was funny. Draco, as expected, ordered something completely pretentious looking, but judging by his pleased hums, was delicious.

Harry tuned into the different conversations around him as he ate his food, nearly spewing goulash out as he struggled to stifle a laugh as Dumbledore told Karkaroff a story and mentioning a full bladder at a formal dinner. Draco and Percy both glanced at him oddly, but Harry waved them off as he struggled to swallow and breathe.

Hermione seemed to be having a wonderful time teaching Krum how to say her name correctly, seeing as she was grinning regardless of how botched his attempt was.

Once everyone had finished eating, Dumbledore stood up and directed everyone else to do the same. When everyone was standing, the Headmaster waved his wand and directed all the tables to line up against the walls and the chairs followed in neat stacks. A platform appeared soon after, covered in a variety of instruments.

Suddenly, everyone started applauding and cheering as The Weird Sisters, a popular wizarding band, marched up to the stage and took their places, picking up their instruments and setting up quickly. Harry watched with rapt attention until a hand wrapped around his elbow and tugged, turning him around and reminding Harry why he was witnessing this at all.

“It’s time for the dance, Potty,” Draco whispered, smirking at Harry’s dazed expression as he carefully led him down the steps, making sure to keep Harry steady so he didn’t trip over his own robes.

Harry saw Seamus and Dean snickering to themselves as they alternated between waving at Harry and glaring at Draco. Harry tensed.

“Hey, it’ll be fine. You’ll do great. Just pretend we’re practicing again,” Draco murmured soothingly, his pale hand squeezing Harry’s forearm.

“Yeah, with about a thousand more eyes watching,” Harry grumbled.

“Just focus on me,” Draco said as they took their places, placing his hand on Harry’s hip again and clasping the other while Harry’s free hand snaked its way up Draco’s shoulder.

“Easier said than done,” Harry snorted, exhaling harshly as the music began to play and the dance started. Harry glanced down, and Draco immediately squeezed his hand in a silent plea to look back up.

“If you make a fool of me in front of everyone, we’re going to have some serious issues, Potty,” 

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. You didn’t have to actually go along with it,” Harry said, feeling suddenly guilty about the thought of embarrassing Draco in front of the whole school and the readers of whatever paper this is splashed across.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Draco said wryly as they spun around. “Pansy wouldn’t have let me say no,”

“Well, I’m sorry for asking in front of her, then.”

“It’s fine, Potter, truly. It isn’t like I can just back out now,” Draco said, exasperation lacing his voice.

“Oh no,” Harry said, eyes wide as he stared at Draco’s face.

Draco frowned, maneuvering them around effortlessly and continuing the dance. “What?”

“You just  _ Pottered  _ me,” Harry whined, “you’re clearly irritated. You only call me Potter when you are,”

“Salazar,” Draco grumbled before locking his grey eyes onto Harry’s. His gaze was soft and piercing all at once, and Harry had no clue what to do with the confusing tangle of emotions it drew forth. “I’m not angry or irritated with you, whatever you may think. As surprising as it may seem, I am enjoying myself, regardless of whether I expected to open the ball with you or not. Quit worrying so much, Harry,” Draco’s voice was deep and smooth, and Harry felt like he could drown in it.

Draco’s gaze suddenly shot to something behind Harry and his grey eyes narrowed, causing Harry to tense again.

“Nice socks, Potter,” a rough voice growled beside him, and if Harry weren’t already tense and prepared for whatever that look in Draco’s eyes had meant, he would’ve jumped.

“Thanks, Dobby the House Elf knitted them for me,” Harry grinned cheekily, turning abruptly in a silent plea for Draco to lead them the other way.

“Did you say  _ Dobby _ ? As in, my old House Elf?” Draco asked, incredulous.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry’s grin turned sheepish as he looked back at Draco. “He works for Hogwarts now, and woke me up this morning with a mismatched pair of hand knitted socks. One is green with snitches, and the other is a rather bright red with broomsticks.” At Draco’s raised eyebrow, he hastily added, “I couldn’t find the fancy black socks that was sent with my outfit, but I didn’t think that anyone would see my  _ socks _ .”

“It is rather odd, and not a small bit creepy that Moody decided to comment on your socks, of all things,” Draco said, eyebrow still raised questioningly.

“Maybe he has a foot fetish?” Harry suggested.

“Oh Merlin, don’t  _ say  _ things like that,” Draco snorted, turning his head to hide a smile into his shoulder. It didn’t work. Harry figured he could spot Draco’s real smile a Quidditch pitch away from how bright they always were.

“Am I interrupting something?” Parkinson asked, startling the two boys as she grinned slyly at them. “Lovely performance, by the way, but the first dance has been over for quite some time, and you’ve been slow dancing through three songs,”

Harry’s eyes were open as wide as his mouth as he glanced between Parkinson and Draco, who seemed to be having a silent conversation made out of knowing looks and heated glares.

“Er, sorry. I’m going to go for a walk, enjoy the rest of the ball,” Harry said, swiftly untangling himself from Draco’s hold and backing away, sighing with no small amount of relief when Parkinson immediately took his spot and grinned widely up at Draco, who seemed to be trying to light her on fire from just his eyes alone.

Turning on his heel, Harry ran into Hermione on the way out, who was crying on the bottom of the steps because of something that Ron had said. Harry hugged her, trying his best to comfort his friend as she sobbed into his shoulder about boys being stupid. Once her sobs turned into hitching breaths, Harry offered for her to take a walk outside with him for some air. She declined, but seemed to appreciate the offer nonetheless. Harry watched her walk towards the nearest bathroom to clean herself up, waiting until she disappeared to slip out the doors and walk through the snowy paths aimlessly.

Harry had accidentally stumbled across a hushed conversation between Igor Karkaroff and Professor Snape, talking about something becoming clearer and clearer as the months passed, but Harry had no idea what they were discussing. When Snape told Karkaroff to run away if he wanted to, but Snape was going to stay at Hogwarts, Harry became even more confused. Run away from what? 

Suddenly, Snape and Karkaroff were in front of Harry, and Snape nearly growled, “and what are you doing snooping around?”

“Just taking a walk, Professor. S’not against the rules now, is it?” Harry responded, voice hard.

“Then keep walking,” Snape snarled as he all but barreled passed, Karkaroff hurrying after the potions professor.

Grumbling, Harry continued walking, but unfortunately didn’t get much farther from the castle when someone called out his name. Hellbent on ignoring whoever it was, Harry quickened his pace when a hand shot out and landed on his shoulder. Whipping around, Harry glared as he pulled his wand out of his pocket and gripped it tightly, coming face to face with Cedric Diggory.

“Whoa, hey Harry,” Cedric backed up a step, hands raised in a placating gesture. Harry pocketed his wand reluctantly. Harry was itching for a fight after seeing what Ron’s pigheadedness had done to Hermione, and then being confronted by Snape.

“What is it?” Harry asked, irritated.

Cedric glanced around himself before speaking, his voice a hushed murmur. “Listen, I owe you after tipping me off about the dragons. Have you figured out your egg yet?”

“No,” Harry said slowly, his irritation gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. “What about it?” 

“Well, does it wail when you open it?” Cedric was smiling slightly now, looking pleased, although Harry didn’t know if that was because Harry wasn’t going to try hexing him or because he was able to return the favour.

Harry nodded, his eyebrows rising in interest.

“Take a bath, okay?”

“W-what?” Harry stuttered, completely taken aback. A bath?

“Take a bath, and, well - take the egg with you, yeah? Just er, mull things over in the water with your egg. It’ll help, trust me.” Cedric was smiling fully now, and Harry was completely confused. Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Look,” Cedric said, noticing Harry’s skepticism, “Use the Prefects’ bathroom on the fifth floor. It’s four doors down on the left from the statue of Boris the Bewildered. Use the password ‘Pine Fresh’, I swear it’ll do you some good. I gotta go, see you later!” Cedric waved as he jogged back up to the castle where Harry could now see that Cho Chang was waiting for him in the open doorway.

Confused and not a little bit concerned, Harry walked back up to the castle, wondering if the Hufflepuff had been trying to pull his leg or actually help him. It would be just his luck to have the Hufflepuff prefect try making a fool of him, but then again.. then again, Harry had helped him when he didn’t need to, so Cedric really had no reason to try sabotaging Harry’s chances. Harry decided he just needed to talk it over with Draco first and find out what he thinks, because if nothing else, this was still the first actual lead they had gotten since Harry had first opened that bloody egg in the first place.

***

After a much needed night of sleep, Harry woke up on Monday morning feeling considerably better. Harry got dressed, marveling at the feeling of having the weight of the Yule Ball firmly behind him. Going down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry immediately spotted Hermione at the Gryffindor table, puffy eyed and glowering down at her still-full breakfast plate. Seating himself across from Hermione, he glanced down the table and spotted Ron at the far end, beside Ginny, sullenly shoveling food into his mouth.

“You doing alright?” Harry asked, piling food onto his own plate.

She glanced up, attempting to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I’ve been better, but I’m okay,” Hermione answered quietly.

“Want me to hex him on his face again?”

Hermione snorted, shaking her head. “No, but if he manages to make  _ you  _ angry, I’ll just look the other way. Hows that sound?”

“Brilliant,” Harry grinned, biting into his bacon.

“So, now that the Yule Ball is over,” Hermione started, and Harry groaned. “Are you going to spend more time trying to figure out your egg?”

“Yes, actually. And I might have gotten a lead on it last night,” Harry grinned. “Oh! That reminds me,” twisting to look behind himself, Harry raked his gaze across the Slytherin table, frowning when a certain blond wasn’t there. “I need to speak to Draco about something,” he muttered, turning around and swallowing a forkful of eggs. “Where do you think he is?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe a late night, late morning?” She suggested, seeming to feel better as she spotted the owls swooping in through the windows to deliver the mail. A brown barn owl landed in front of her with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ attached to its leg, and Hermione put a coin in the small pouch around it as she deftly untied the paper and scanned the headline. “Oh my,” she said faintly.

“What is it?” 

Eyebrows knit in concern, she slid the paper over so Harry could read the front page.

“Seriously?” Harry exclaimed, glaring at the paper.

The top half of the paper, along with the headline, was dedicated to the Yule Ball itself, but underneath the picture of the four couples dancing, were two more sets of pictures with another, slightly less noticeable headline.

_ Harry Potter’s Not So Secret Romance!  _ Underneath that was an even more obnoxious subtitle.

_ Harry Potter, better known as The Boy Who Lived, was spotted yet again with Draco Malfoy, the only son of esteemed Lucius Malfoy, at the Yule Ball. _

Beneath that, were two more pictures of them. The first was from when Draco had just pinned the dragon brooch to Harry’s robes and Harry had grabbed his hands and lowered them, Draco had smirked and Harry had a look of such open adoration on his face that it  _ had  _ to be edited in. There was no way that Harry could look that soppy over something as simple as clipping a pin onto his robes.

The second picture, however, was from their dance. It was the moment that Harry grinned at him, saying something about Moody’s foot fetish, causing the Slytherin to smile and hide his face. Harry could grudgingly admit that  _ that _ one probably wasn’t edited, seeing as they were laughing about fetishes, but Harry didn’t think it really amounted to anything substantial concerning their ‘secret romance’.

“I don’t want to read the article,” Harry announced, pushing the paper back towards Hermione.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s absolute rubbish, ‘Mione. You know that,” Harry said.

“Are you sure?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Harry, you’re absolutely sure that there’s nothing going on between you and Malfoy?  _ Nothing _ ?” Hermione seemed skeptical, and Harry’s gut twisted.

“No, there isn’t anything going on between us. At least not that I know of,” Harry answered confidently.

“That’s reassuring,” Hermione snorted.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, look who it is!” Hermione suddenly exclaimed, staring intently at the doors. “Malfoy’s here, Harry. Go talk to him about your egg,”

“Subtle,” Harry glowered as she snickered. Getting up, Harry followed Draco and Parkinson to the Slytherin table and immediately sat down beside Draco.

“Here to pester me already, are you?” Draco stated, filling his plate.

“Absolutely,” Harry answered, watching as Draco took a drink from his goblet and reached out for the _Prophet_. Harry pushed it away. “Don’t read the paper,”

The blond’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Nothing interesting,” Harry shrugged, pointedly ignoring Blaise Zabini’s snort. “Oh, guess what?”

Draco raised an eyebrow in question as he inched his hand across the table towards the paper again.

“I think I figured out how to figure out what the clue in the egg is,” Harry stated quickly. Draco’s hand froze.

“Really,” he deadpanned, drumming his fingers lightly against the table. “And what would that be?”

Harry quickly explained about what Cedric said, watching at Draco’s eyebrows rose higher and higher.

“You’re actually serious,” Draco said, staring at him.

“Yes?”

“Unbelievable,” rolling his eyes, Draco quickly snached the paper from the table and looked at the cover, before promptly blushing and crumbling it in his hand.

“I told you,” Harry said.

Harry listened to the Slytherins talk as they all finished their breakfast, most were gushing about the ball and not one of them said anything about what was plastered across the _Prophet_ , even if they kept shooting knowing looks and smirks towards Harry and Draco. Harry merely raised an eyebrow while Draco glowered, but it was tolerable.

“Alright,” Draco sighed, pushing his plate away. “Come along, Potty. It’s bath time,”

“Er, excuse me?” Harry spluttered, rising from his seat.

“Bath time? You know, when you submerge yourself in water to cleanse yourself? Honestly,”

“Yes, yes, I know what a bath is,” Harry grumbled. “But I didn’t realize that you were coming  _ with  _ me,”

“Of course I am, are you daft?”

“Sometimes?” Harry joked, smiling when he saw Draco’s lips twitch.

“Obviously I can’t trust you to go by yourself; you’d either forget what you’re doing or not understand it,” Draco explained as he stood up from the table as well.

“Obviously,” Harry repeated.

“Exactly. So off we go, Potty,” Draco shooed him around and away from the table, but not before Harry caught the smirk on Parkinson’s face as she waved her fingers at him in farewell.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, oh my god i am an idiot and had s e v e r e problems getting my shit together. okay! so first of all, i accidentally deleted the entire story!!! and chapter i was working on!! and i legit cried for like a week straight and broke my own heart!! AND THEN, like the moron i am, i completely forgot that an undo button exists??? so i was just like "hmm, maybe i should try that??" and LO AND BEHOLD, it worked. :/  
> THEN!!! my laptop died, and i was just like, oh! charger!! that will fix it! :) AND I COULDN'T FIND MY CHARGER. i looked e v e r y w h e r e and had no idea where it went. last i knew, it was plugged into my power strip, and then it just. wasn't??? so i finally caved and asked my boyfriend if he moved it, and he apparently decided to put it in the random object drawer in my dresser?????? like, i have loved this dude for three years and should have been used to his antics, but apparently he still finds ways to surprise me every day.
> 
> so for everyone that doesn't care about that, i just had a lot of small little issues because my entire life is an issue and this chapter is like two years late.   
> I"M SORRY, FORGIVE ME.  
> or don't, it is entirely your choice, really. but maybe a new chapter finally will make it up to you? :) even if it is shorter than normal, but i was too excited to start the next chapter to add any more to the one i'm posting now. fingers crossed that it isn't going to turn into one chapter a month type of story! *bawling face* wish me luck!!

Inside the Prefects’ bathroom on the fifth floor, Harry felt like he was slowly losing his mind as he stared at the enormous bath slowly filling with steaming water and whatever scented soap taps Draco had used.

“Right, so how are you at Transfiguration?” Draco asked, toeing off his shoes.

“Er, great,” Harry lied, focusing only on the enormous bathtub. It was filling up quite fast with an abundance of scented soap bubbles and steam wafting around the large room, the heat making Harry’s shirt cling uncomfortably to his back.

“Of course,” Draco sighed, slipping his already unbuttoned robes off and starting on his shirt. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“What else would you have me do?” Harry asked, eyes trailing after a rising bubble, feeling his cheeks turn a fierce red. From the steam of the bath, probably.

“Start taking your clothes off?”

Harry whipped around, eyes wide and mouth agape to stare at Draco, whose fair skin was only a very light shade of pink. No doubt from the rising temperature of the room. “Excuse me?”

“What, are you scared, Potty? Would you rather jump in the bath fully clothed?” Draco’s tone was mocking and full of challenge, and as much as Harry got along with the Slytherin now, there was no way he could let him win so easily.

“Of course I’m not,” Harry exclaimed hotly, tugging his robe and shirt off roughly while toeing off his trainers. He paused, however, when he was clad in only his jeans, unsure as to whether he should continue or not. Deciding that he was most certainly  _ not  _ afraid of whatever was going to happen, he reached down slowly and unfastened his flies with shaky fingers. Harry focused only on his own movements as he eased his trousers down, clumsily kicking them off the remainder of his legs while still refusing to look back up at Draco. “Why’d you ask about my Transfiguration skills?”

“I am just going to assume that you would rather not jump into a bath with me only wearing your white pants?” Draco replied tauntingly, and Harry swore he could hear the smirk accompanying the tone.

“I don’t have any swimwear,” Harry stated, studying the pristine tiles on the bathroom floor. The House Elves must know an extremely powerful spell, or the poor things spend more time scrubbing than Harry originally thought.

“You’re not really as thick as you look, are you Potty?”

“What?” Harry spluttered, his head shooting up rather against his will to glare at the Slytherin. The Slytherin who just so happened to be wearing a pair or almost viciously tight black boxers and nothing else. Harry’s throat tightened as he forced himself to focus his glare on Draco’s face, and decidedly  _ not  _ on the rest of his extremely pale body. His extremely pale body that was only amplified by the starkness of his very black boxers, making the rest of his skin an almost sickly white in contrast, most likely not helped at all by the murky greenish light filtering in through the stained glass windows. God.

“What?” Harry repeated, voice slightly steadier as his heart thrummed wildly in his chest.

Draco’s smirk was so wide it was almost a smile, albeit a slightly painful looking one. “If your Transfiguration skills aren’t up to par, I don’t think I should trust you to change your delicate little pants into something more appropriate, should I?” Raising his wand almost lazily, Draco stepped forward slowly yet confidently.

“Er,” was all Harry could reply, his breath stuttering suddenly in his chest because  _ Draco was staring directly at Harry’s pants and pointing his wand at Harry’s crotch and what the bloody fuck why hasn’t he jumped out of the way from whatever spell Draco just cast at his very sensitive bits - fuck the Dark Lord, Harry was going to die from permanent bollocks damage- _

“Better,” Draco’s voice startled Harry out of his thoughts and he flinched violently, tripping over his own feet and falling backwards, his flailing arms slamming painfully into one of the taps as the rest of his body was suddenly submerged into the steaming fragrance of the bathtub. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Harry shouted as he surfaced, coughing out hot water and vigorously shaking his head to clear the suds from his eyes and ears. “You bloody git!” Miraculously, his glasses had  managed to stay on his face, even if they were a bit cockeyed and covered in soap.

“You should have seen your face,” Draco choked out between laughs, his whole pale body bent in half as he struggled to breathe. “Oh, that was brilliant!”

“I’ll show you brilliant, you arse!” Harry growled, lunging forward and grabbing onto one of the hands Draco had braced on his knees. Tugging harshly, he dragged the Slytherin into the bubbly depths to join him, chuckling as surprise and horror flitted across Draco’s face as he overbalanced, crashing into the water in a multi-scented wave.

Harry immediately swam back against the walls of the bath, feeling much more relaxed and rather proud of himself as he watched Draco resurface with a handful of suds stuck to his hair as he coughed harshly. “You bastard,” Draco yelled, the sound echoing off the walls as he harshly scraped the soap bubbles off his blond hair.

“You should have seen your face,” Harry mocked, fighting a grin as he dodged a splash of water Draco pushed at him. “Hey!”

Harry quickly pushed a wave of water back, laughing as he dodged another spray. 

“Okay! Okay, stop. Potter!” Draco jumped aside as Harry swam towards him, twisting as quickly as he could in the water to cling onto Harry’s shoulders before submerging the Gryffindor again. When Harry resurfaced, shaking his hair out of his eyes, he caught Draco’s glare and froze, swallowing. “We’re here for a reason, Potty,” Draco spoke slowly, almost as if willing Harry to understand and calm down. “If you want to play around in the water, you can do that later. Right now, however, is not the time. I want to get this done before I start to prune, if you don’t mind.” Draco sniffed, “now, go get your egg.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry rolled his eyes as he climbed out of the water, being mindful of the suds dripping off his shoulders and keeping them away from his clothes piled on the floor as he fetched the golden egg. “Here,” he said, handing the egg to Draco and sitting on the ledge of the pool, watching as Draco swiped his pale hand along the egg. “Do you have any ideas?”

“You’ll be the first to know if I do,” Draco muttered, opening the egg slowly and wincing as the screech echoed off the walls. Closing it quickly, he submerged the egg and studied it some more, rolling it around in his hands thoughtfully. “Did Diggory say anything else about finding the clue?”

“Nah,” Harry said, reaching up and pushing his hair out of his face. “Just that I should take a bath with the egg and mull things over in the water,”

“Hm,” Draco hummed, twisting the egg open again and staring at it intently, eyes narrowing in concentration as they flitted across golden shell and the now open middle. It was a miracle how easy it was to pay attention to what the egg looked like open when they weren’t actually distracted by the ear-splitting wail, Harry thought.

Harry looked up from the egg to Draco’s face, feeling awkward as he tried to ignore a drop of water trailing down the side of his face and right in front of his flushed ears. His eyes followed the trail of water uncomprehendingly, unsure as to why he couldn’t look away from the glistening path the drop left down the sharp edge of Draco’s jaw. The moment it slid down his neck however, Harry immediately turned away. 

It was an odd sensation to Harry. He’s never felt this awkward around another half naked boy before. Hell, he’s shared showers with completely naked ones loads of times after Quidditch matches. Why was this so different? Sure, he’s never quite shared a bathtub with anyone before, but it really wouldn’t have bothered him as much if it were Seamus or Ron, would it?

Desperately wanting to lighten the mood he created around himself and forget all about what created it, Harry reached out blindly and grabbed onto the back of Draco’s head, ignoring the “Potter-” snapped at him before pushing forward roughly, successfully dunking Draco’s head underwater again.

“Oh fuck,” Harry said as he immediately scrambled backwards and completely out of the water, fully prepared for Draco’s retaliation. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was Draco to surface with wide grey eyes and his mouth moving silently.

“Draco?” Harry questioned lowly, more worried about the blond’s lack of reaction than he was about getting dragged back into the steamy bath. It certainly wasn’t like Draco to  _ not  _ get upset about Harry dunking him. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? You can even dunk me if it’ll make you feel better,” Harry sighed as he climbed back into the water and wading to Draco’s side.

“Harry,” Draco said, shaking his head with a grin before jumping at Harry, pulling him under the water along with him again. 

Even prepared for the plunge, Harry was still taken by surprise at the flood of water filling his nostrils. Planting his feet on the tiles at the bottom of the bath, Harry made to push himself up before freezing in place, eyes opening wide in incredulousness as his gaze shot towards the still open egg. The egg that was singing, not screeching. Darting his eyes between Draco and the egg, Harry listened attentively to the words coming from the egg as it started over;

_ Come seek us where our voices sound, _

_ We cannot sing above the ground, _

_ And while you’re searching, ponder this: _

_ We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss, _

_ An hour long you’ll have to look, _

_ And to recover what we took, _

_ But past an hour - the prospect”s black, _

_ Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back. _

The moment the song ended, Harry pushed back up and broke the bubbly surface, taking in deep gulping breaths even as a wide grin stretched his face. Draco surfaced only moments later, bring the now closed egg with him.

“We did it,” Harry exclaimed breathlessly, shaking the wet strands of hair out of his eyes. “Merlin, we actually did it!”

“Exactly who discovered it, Potty?” Draco smirked in smug satisfaction, but Harry could see the relief under the haughty expression.

“And who exactly dunked you underwater to make it possible?” Harry grinned, feeling ridiculously lighter than he had ever since he had gotten the egg.

“As if you could have figured that out without me,” Draco snorted, setting the egg on the bath ledge as he attempted to pull himself out of the water.

“Draco,” Harry started helplessly as he stared at the rivulets of water cascading down the expanse of Draco’s extremely pale back, transfixed.

“What?” He answered, turning slightly to look at Harry over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised.

“I just-” Harry gave up fumbling with his words, instead opting to grab Draco’s arm and pulling back into the water and towards himself for a grateful hug. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely, unsure which emotion he was feeling most at the moment.

Draco’s stiff body relaxed slightly as he carefully brought one bare arm up to pat Harry on the back softly, his wet skin gliding smoothly across Harry’s shoulder blades. “You’re welcome,” he whispered before stepping back, eyeing Harry oddly.

“So,” Harry blurted, trying to lighten the mood as he climbed out of the tub himself. “Any ideas about the clue?”

“Plenty,” Draco said, but he didn’t elaborate. He focused on the task of drying them and their pants off, causing Harry to flinch and blush as Draco once again focused his seemingly undivided attention towards Harry’s crotch as he transfigured the swimmers back into the plain white pants they were before. Wanting to get as un-naked as possible, Harry quickly snatched up his clothing and dressed as fast as possible, hoping to never remember this moment for the rest of his life.

“Care to elaborate on that ‘plenty’?” Harry asked once Draco was fully clothed.

“Not necessarily,” Draco smirked, bending to pick up the golden egg and toss it to Harry, who caught it reflexively. “We can discuss it more after lunch. Your Granger might be able to help you if you wish to ask her instead, though,”

Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Hermione wouldn’t help me figure out either of the tasks before; why would she start now?”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t she your best friend?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged. “One of them,”

“Ah. So you’re talking to the Weasel again, are you?” Draco sneered.

“No, I’m not,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I was talking about  _ you _ , you prat,”

“You think of me as one of your best friends?” Draco asked, shocked.

“Well, yeah,” shuffling his feet, Harry sighed and looked towards the stained glass windows. “You were there for me and stood by me when no one else did, and you’re surprisingly great company when you aren’t being a git,” Harry grinned lopsidedly at the Slytherin’s narrowed eyes. “But really,” he continued, feeling this was a rather important conversation. “You’ve been a great help and an even greater friend this year, and I appreciate it a lot,” finishing on a mumble, Harry glanced up at Draco’s gobsmacked expression as he gestured towards the door. “Lunch?”

Quickly schooling his features, Draco nodded once and followed Harry out of the Prefects’ bathroom and back down to the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA I THOUGHT I WAS DONE. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos, it means so so so much to me and makes me smile like a maniac every single time, so thank you. <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyy, guess who didn't take an entire month to get their life together this time?!  
> still not me, but i finished a new chapter and that's a start!

_ Dear Sirius, _

_ You haven’t replied to my last letter yet, and I really hope that’s only because you’re trying to keep yourself safe or you’re too angry to respond yet. Even if you are upset, it’s still a much better alternative to getting captured, and I haven’t seen anything in the papers this month. _

_ You told me to keep you updated, so I’m writing this letter to let you know that we’ve figured out the clue to the second task a few weeks ago. Draco and I, that is. Took a lot longer than I had originally thought it would, but we got it in the end. As it turns out, all we had to do was plunge the golden menace in some water and stick our heads in. It sang to us, instead of screeching. I thought it was pretty neat spellwork, but Draco was less impressed with what it was compared to what it was singing. We waited until the next day to start research, which is a nice change of pace from studying things with Hermione, seeing as she’d want to start right away even though there’s still well over a month left before the second task. _

_ So get this. The egg sang a poem, and it was in Mermish. That’s why we weren’t able to get anything other than a headache whenever we tried opening it. The poem itself, however, is a little more daunting than a wailing egg. Some of the lines of the poem are pretty normal, but others are just completely perplexing. We aren’t exactly sure what the task itself will entail, but we’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll probably have to swim to the bottom of The Great Lake and search for whatever important item they’ve taken from me in the span of an hour, and if I don’t find it, I’ll never get it back. That’s the part that worries me the most because what if they take my cloak and I can’t find it? _

_ Since Hermione still thinks that helping me is cheating and absolutely against the rules, even though there’s a chance I might actually get seriously injured or drown, Draco’s been the one cramming information about every possible type of water creature down my throat, and what the best way to defeat it is. Seriously, he’s going completely overboard with the studying thing. If he so much as passes me in the corridor, he’ll randomly shout a question at me, and if I don’t answer fast enough or correctly, he’s taken to hitting me with a Stinging Hex! I mean, I get it, I really do, but seriously? Just because I wasn’t prepared in the  _ hallway,  _ of all places, I get hexed? I get his point, really, but Merlin it’s getting annoying. At this rate, I think Draco’s going to off me before a bloody plimpy even has a chance to nibble on my toes. _

_ That’s all I can tell you for now, but I’ll keep you updated if I find out anything else. I hope that you and Buckbeak had a nice Christmas and New Year’s, I know mine could have been much worse than it was this year. Ron’s still not talking to me though, so the holidays were a bit more awkward than usual. Hopefully things start feeling normal again when classes start back up tomorrow. _

_ Stay safe, _

_ -Harry _

_ *** _

“I still can’t believe you gave Moody your map,” Draco grumbled, glaring over at where Professor Moody was seated at the Head Table in the Great Hall.

“Oh come off it, Draco. I’ve already explained it to you. You know he would have confiscated it anyway if I hadn’t,” Harry answered between spoonfuls of pudding, not looking up to see which expression was on the Slytherin’s face.

“Yes, I know why you did it, but I don’t see why  _ he, _ ” Draco sneered - Harry could just hear it in his voice - “felt the need to use it against us,” and just as Harry had assumed, Draco was pouting again. Harry took another bite of his pudding.

“What map?” Parkinson’s voice cut off Draco’s complaints, and he glared at her.

“None of your business,” he snapped, the tips of his ears were a very light shade of pink. Parkinson rolled her eyes and turned to Harry.

“What map?”

Harry grinned. “So! It’s a really neat map that was gifted to me a few years ago. I lent it to Moody because he asked if he could borrow it for a few weeks, and-”

“Potter!” Draco hissed, elbowing him harshly in the ribs.

“What was that for?” Harry pouted, rubbing his side as Draco turned his glare on him.

“Shut up,” was all he said before he went back to pushing his vegetables around on his plate.

“The map?” Parkinson prompted, picking up her goblet and swirling it around like a wine glass.

“Yes, the map!” Harry grinned again, “so you see, it’s a very special map,” Harry ignored the kick to his shin Draco aimed at him. Harry leaned closer over the table towards Parkinson and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “it’s a map of the stars.” 

“It’s a.. What?” One of her perfect eyebrows were raised skeptically, and Draco was looking at him like he was a loon.

“Oh yes,” Harry nodded seriously, his mouth a straight line. “The map is a star chart that constantly changes as the Earth rotates.”

“And that’s important, why?”

“Because I’ve taken to reading it to predict all of Draco’s bad moods. Funnily enough, there’s one coming in just a few moments,”

Right on cue, Draco’s face screwed up as he bit out, “did you just call me  _ moody _ ?”

“Of course not! Would I ever say such a thing?” Harry asked, eyes wide in false innocence as he fought to keep a smile off his face.

“Yes,” Parkinson answered, her eyes sparkling in amusement as she looked between Draco’s petulant expression and Harry’s twitching lips.

“I don’t know why I even bother,” Draco muttered, pushing his plate away.

“Because you’re my nearest and dearest?” Harry joked, laughing as two light pink spots of color bloomed on the top of Draco’s cheekbones. He opened his mouth, but Harry spoke before he had a chance to. “Oh come off it, Draco. You know I wouldn’t do anything that stupid,”

“I should bloody well hope not,” he folded his arms across his torso and took to glaring over at the Gryffindor table. “The Weasel is glaring at us again,”

“What’s new with that?” Harry snorted. “I’d be more surprised if he was looking over here with any other emotion besides hatred or jealousy,”

“How did Moody use the ‘star chart’ against you two?” Parkinson asked, air quoting with one hand while the other held her goblet.

“He found us wandering around after curfew last night after we finished studying,” Harry supplied helpfully, seeing as Draco had taken to glaring back the Head table. “We hadn’t realized how late it was until we finished up, and the moment we stepped out of the classroom he turned the corner of a hallway and stopped to threaten us with detention if we weren’t back in our respective dorms in ten minutes, and that he would know if we weren’t” Harry rolled his eyes.

“No, he threatened  _ me  _ with detention. He only threw you into the mix because he couldn’t blame one of us without playing favourites, and everyone knows just how twisted your knickers would have gotten if he tried to punish me and not you,” Draco said.

“ _ Knickers _ ? You know as well as I do that I don’t wear knickers!” Harry said loudly, causing a few heads to turn towards them at the Slytherin table.

“Oh yes, I am well aware,” Draco rolling his eyes and smirked.

“It’s your fault you even know in the first place,” Harry pointed out.

“Do I even want to know?” Parkinson asked.

“No,” Harry muttered at the same time that Draco said “Yes,” with a toothy smile.

“Okay,” Harry cut in before Parkinson could ask any more questions. “I need to go back to the dorm before class, so I’ll see you two later.” Harry hopped off the bench and hastily walked away, hoping to avoid hearing anything else concerning knickers.

***

“Potter! Stay after class, I need to speak to you,” Professor Moody barked.

Harry twitched, nodding as he sighed out a quiet, “yes sir,”, shrugging at the worried look Hermione shot at him from her seat in front of him.

“Bad luck, mate,” Neville whispered next to him as he packed his supplies back into his bag.

“You’re telling me,” Harry muttered, shoving his parchment into his Defense book and shoving it into his bag carelessly.

Harry remained seated as the class was dismissed, Hermione still shooting him concerned looks that left no doubt she’d be waiting outside to bombard him with questions. Ron stood and glanced at her, rolling his eyes before shoving his way through the group of students leaving and out the door. Hermione glared after his retreating back.

“It’s fine, ‘Mione. I’ll talk to you afterwards, yeah?” Harry said, glancing around and spotting Draco’s blond head through the passing students, still at his desk carefully packing his materials away. Once finished, he stood and cocked an eyebrow at Harry in question, and Harry shook his head. Draco nodded once and glanced away as he left, and Harry knew that he’d be prodded with more questions after Hermione was done with him. Merlin, but it’d be easier if he could just explain everything to them both at once.

“If you’re sure. I can wait outside for you, if you like?” She said it as a question, but Harry knew better than to dismiss her.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled at her, and she grinned back in relief before turning away to leave the classroom. He knew the tension between himself and Ron was wearing Hermione down, and Harry didn’t want to stress her anymore than she already was.

With the classroom finally empty, Harry looked up at Professor Moody with a neutral expression, hoping whatever he wanted would be quick. Moody took a drink out of his flask and stared at Harry, not saying anything as his magical eye whirled around.

With gritted teeth, Harry spoke. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Have you figured out the clue for the next task?” 

“Yes sir,”

“What is it?”

“A task to retrieve something underwater,” Harry watched the Professor’s face closely, but Moody didn’t give anything away as to why he was asking.

“And how long do you have to search for this object?”

“An hour,” Harry ground out.

“How do you plan to manage to breathe underwater for an hour?” Moody leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk.

“We’re still researching it, sir,”

“We? Who else is helping you?” Moody’s magical eye spun around again and landed on Harry, making him extremely uncomfortable.

 “Draco, sir,” Harry clenched his hands into fists in his lap, already preparing himself for Moody’s response.

“The Malfoy boy, eh?” Moody sneered, pushing back from the desk and limping around it. “You cannot trust that boy, Potter. The Malfoys are notorious for their penchant to slip through cracks. They are a deceitful family and only ever look out for their own interests. Befriending him is a show of ignorance on your part. You’ve seen what that family is capable of, Potter. I’ve heard about the debacle during your second year of school here, and don’t think for one second that Lucius Malfoy would pass up the chance to be rid of you for it. The Malfoys don’t handle defeat very well, especially due to those who have slighted them. You would do well to distance yourself from that boy, Potter, if you knew what was good for you,” Moody was standing in front of the teacher’s desk now, and slammed his fist down on it at the last word. Harry’s heart jumped, but he forced his expression to stay calm as his nostrils flared slightly.

“With all due respect, sir,” Harry spoke, fighting to keep his voice from wavering in anger, “Draco Malfoy is not his father, and he has proven himself to me time and again this year that my well-being is a priority during this tournament. He has had many opportunities to endanger me, and he hasn’t done anything but keep me away from them.”

“And if he is just biding his time for the most opportune moment? Where is your proof that he is not just looking out for himself and operating under his father’s orders?” Moody growled and limped a step forward.

Harry’s mind flashed back to the book about previous tournaments that had been sent to Draco from Lucius, but quickly pushed it out of his mind. Draco wasn’t following his father’s orders. He  _ couldn’t  _ be. Harry absolutely refused to believe it.

“He isn’t,” Harry stated firmly, keeping his eyes locked onto Moody’s good one. “Where is  _ your  _ proof that Draco is just trying to lure me into a false sense of security?”

“Don’t talk back to me, Potter,” Moody snarled, his teeth bared. 

Harry’s anger spiked and he pushed back from the desk harshly, standing up. “Then don’t tell me who I’m allowed to be friends with! My social life doesn’t concern  _ you _ ,” spitting the last word, Harry tugged his bag on harshly and made for the door.

“I haven’t dismissed you yet, Potter,” Moody bit out, limping towards him.

“Funnily enough, I don’t need you to because I’m still leaving!” Harry yelled as he yanked open the door, revealing Hermione’s shocked and pale face. “Let’s go,” Harry growled lowly, grabbing her arm and leading her down the corridor.

A final yell of, “POTTER!” was all Harry heard before the slam of the classroom door cut off the sound of Professor Moody’s voice.

“What was that about?” Hermione whispered, her eyes still unnaturally wide. 

Harry grimaced. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” she replied faintly.

“Not here, alright? I can explain later. Actually,” Harry paused, thinking quickly. “Would you be comfortable being in the same room as Draco for a while? Because I really don’t want to go over that twice,”

Hermione’s nose scrunched up in thought. “I suppose I could tolerate it. As long as Malfoy keeps himself in line, anyway.”

“You’re the best, ‘Mione,” Harry grinned at her as they made their way into the Great Hall for lunch, catching Draco’s eye and nodding to him once. “I’ll go talk to him about it and let you know, yeah?”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you later, Harry,” Hermione gave him a quick hug before walking towards the Gryffindor table, where Ron watched the exchange with a glare. 

Harry sneered at him before turning towards the Slytherin table and taking a seat next to Draco. Before the blond could open his mouth, Harry cut in with, “I have a proposition for you,”

Draco’s eyes narrowed almost immediately as he studied Harry’s face. “Go on,” he drawled.

“Well,” Harry chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “You’re not going to like it,”

***

“Do I  _ have  _ to?” Draco whined, trying and failing to tug his arm free from Harry’s grasp.

“Yes, you do,” Harry grinned at him, dragging him down another corridor and towards the empty classroom they’ve been using to study and practice spells for the next task.

“I didn’t even agree to it!” Draco complained, yanking on his arm once more before wincing and glaring at Harry as he rubbed at his shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re nearly there anyway,”

“Why don’t you just tell the mu-” Draco cut himself off before Harry even had a chance to glare at him and took a deep breath. “Why can’t you just tell Granger first, and then tell me afterwards?”

“Because I really don’t want to have to explain it again,” Harry sighed. “I don’t even want to talk about it now.”

“Was it that bad?” Draco asked quietly, picking up his pace enough for Harry’s arm to fall towards his side again.

“It was that frustrating,” Harry replied, still not letting go of Draco’s arm. Just because Draco had seemed to calm down, didn’t mean that he actually had, unfortunately. He’s still a slippery Slytherin bugger and would absolutely try running away the moment he was released, Harry was certain.

“Fine, but you owe me,” the blond grumbled, resigning himself to his fate.

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed with a snort.

They approached the classroom door, Hermione already waiting outside of it with a determined expression on her face. It seemed to falter slightly the moment she spotted Draco, but quickly reformed again and Harry was grateful.

“You ready?” Harry whispered to Draco.

“No,” Draco sighed, schooling his features into a politely indifferent mask.

“Hi Harry,” Hermione greeted him when they were close enough, before turning herself towards Draco purposefully. “Malfoy,” she said, her tone less warm than with Harry but far from impolite. Harry grinned at her.

“Granger,” Draco nodded. The three of them stood in place for a moment, the silence becoming awkward as Hermione and Draco eyed each other warily.

“So,” Harry said loudly, causing the other two to look towards him. He gestured towards the door. “Shall we?”

“We better,” Hermione answered briskly, twisting the knob and pushing the door open fully. “Oh, wow,” she said as she stepped inside, looking around curiously. “What happened in here?”

“Oh yeah,” Harry said, scrubbing a hand through his hair sheepishly. “I forgot to tell you, but this is the room where Draco and I have been studying since we’re not allowed in the library together,”

“Well, if this is the result of you two studying together, then I wouldn’t want you anywhere near a room full of books,” Hermione stated, eyes wide as she took in the busted furniture shoved into corners and randomly dispersed scorch marks on the walls and floor. Even the ceiling had a burn mark on it.

“Er, well, we don’t just study in here,” Harry answered, looking at Draco for an easier explanation.

“Potter and I come in here to study and practice spells that may be considered useful for the second task. The spell marks on the walls are from where he had missed the target I had conjured for him,” Draco explained, his tone completely even and polite. Harry beamed at him.

“And the ceiling?” Hermione asked, raising one amused eyebrow at Harry.

“I may have, er, tripped over a broken chair leg?”

Hermione snorted, conjuring three wooden chairs and taking a seat in one before looking at the two boys expectantly. Harry immediately sat down, but Draco studied the other chair for a moment before gingerly seating himself in it as if he expected it to crumble apart the moment he touched it.

“So, the reason we’re here. What happened after class today, Harry?” Hermione asked, her tone businesslike. 

“Well, Moody wanted me to stay after class to talk to me,” Harry started, thinking about what he should say next.

“Yes, Potty, we were all there for that part,” Draco said, tapping his fingers on his knee impatiently.

Harry glared at him before continuing. “He wanted to talk to me about the tournament, apparently. Kept asking me if I figured out my clue yet, if I have a plan, that sort of thing,” Harry clenched his hands into fists again at the memory.

“And after that?” Hermione asked, looking nervously between Harry and Draco. “I could barely hear anything through the door when I was waiting for you, but I did hear yelling before you stormed out the door,”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, slumping in his seat. “He asked me who was helping me after I told him that we were researching it, and I admitted that Draco was helping me,” glancing up, Hermione’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and Draco was scowling heavily. “Moody didn’t seem to like that very much. He started lecturing me on how the Malfoy family is full of nothing but slimy and selfish people, and that I need to distance myself as far away from Draco as possible because my supposed ignorance on the Malfoy family will be my downfall,” Harry stared at the floor, not wanting to look up into the faces of his friends just yet.

“Harry,” Hermione trailed off, not seeming to know what to say.

“Was there anything else he said?” Draco asked, his voice clipped.

“Yeah,” Harry winced. “After he said all that, I told him that you weren’t your father and you’ve already had plenty of chances to endanger me and you haven’t, but he seems to think that you’re acting on orders from your father to.. what did I call it? Oh, ‘lure me into a false sense of security’,” Harry air quoted with his fingers.

“Then?” Hermione prompted, looking worriedly at Draco’s impassive expression.

“He asked me how I knew for sure that Draco wasn’t just doing his father’s bidding, and I basically told him that I was absolutely sure he wasn’t and asked him where his own proof was that Draco was deceiving me. He didn’t seem like that very well,” Harry reflected.

“Of course he didn’t,” Draco muttered. “That old codger doesn’t trust anyone, but expects everyone to trust him anyway. I don’t see why you even stayed behind in the first place,”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I did walk out on him nearly right after that,” Harry shot Draco a small smile, hoping it came across as reassuring. “Told him that he can’t pick my friends for me, and then I got up and left.”

Hermione chuckled quietly. “Now, that part I did manage to hear, considering you were both yelling,”

Harry laughed with her, glancing over at Draco and noticing that he still looked decidedly pissed.

“Draco?”

“Hm?” He answered, glaring at one of the burn marks on the floor.

“You okay?” Harry asked hesitantly, giving Draco an easy out in case he didn’t want to say anything in front of Hermione.

“Of course I’m fine,” Draco sneered. “I have to listen to people insult my family every day, but I can admit that it’s been a few days since I’ve heard anyone say that I’ve been manipulating you,”

“Who says you’re manipulating me?” Harry asked, confused. He looked over to Hermione to find her intently studying her fingernails.

Draco snorted derisively. “Who  _ hasn’t _ ?”

“What?”

“Oh, they may not say it to your face, but there’s been a lot of talk amongst the school about it for quite some time,” Draco spit out, his fingers paling further as they clenched into the legs of his trousers. “Apparently, the idea of the two of us becoming friends is more far more outlandish than me finding ways to blackmail and bribe you,”

“Is that true?” Harry turned towards Hermione, incredulous.

“I-,” she trailed off helplessly, looking at Harry worriedly.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned in frustration, ignoring Hermione’s reproachful look as he ran his hands through his hair and tugged on it. “Why didn’t either of you tell me?”

“I had no idea that you weren’t aware of it, Harry,” Hermione said gently.

“Don’t get all righteous on us now, Potter. You and I both know that I wouldn’t have been able to tell you without having you wanting to jump around hexing every foolish student in this school,” Draco sneered. “Besides, it isn’t like it’s true. We both know that I’m not manipulating you,”

“I know you aren’t,” Harry sighed. “I just wish that I was aware of it. Why do they even think that you are?”

“As Moody so eloquently put it, I am a Malfoy. And a Slytherin, to top it off. Of course there isn’t any way that I’d be able to ensnare the attention of their Chosen One without resorting to blackmail,” Draco said bitterly.

“Malfoy,” Hermione started hesitantly. “I doubt it means anything to you, but I never once thought that you had forced this friendship of yours upon Harry. I mean, it is rather unconventional, considering who the two of you are, but being friends with you makes Harry happy, and that’s all that really matters to me.” She breathed in deeply and paused, waiting to see if she’ll be interrupted. When neither of the boys spoke, she continued, “I know that other people are always eager to throw out their own opinions and to be heard, but I think that as long as you are both comfortable with this, then why should their thoughts matter? We all know how stubborn Harry is, and vocal public interference is something he’s used to. He’s not going to just cut you off because of what people say. He’d be the first one with his wand out, ready to hex the next person that dared to even breathe,”

“Too right,” Harry snorted, chancing a look over at Draco to try gauging his expression.

“While that is kind of you to say,” Draco spoke through gritted teeth, “I do not need protection.”

“Obviously,” Hermione rolled her eyes as she stood, wiping her hands on her legs. “Well, I should be getting back to the common room. I still need to finish that charms essay,”

“I’ll see you tonight, ‘Mione,” Harry smiled at her gratefully. She smiled back before walking out the door, shutting it closed behind her as she went.

“I don’t need or want you to protect me, Potter. I can take care of myself,” Draco spoke quietly behind him, and Harry turned around.

“I know you don’t need me to save you,” Harry snorted in amusement. “Considering the lovely arsenal of spells and information you’ve thrown at me during the last few months, I’d say that I’d be able to comfortably sit back and watch you take on a feral horde of ogres by yourself.”

Draco’s lips twitched as he stood up and stretched, and Harry was beyond thankful that he wasn’t going to be cranky on the way back out. Merlin knows that Draco in a mood is awful.

“I didn’t like her implying that I needed you to protect me from anyone, though,”

“I know you didn’t,” Harry sighed. “But I don’t think that’s what she was aiming for. She seemed more or less on the path of talking about how I wouldn’t just abandon you the moment people got brave enough to step up and voice their opinions to me. Although, I greatly appreciate you not being rude to her regardless of what she meant,” he said earnestly, beaming at Draco again.

“I am perfectly capable of being civilized towards people I’m not fond of when need be,” Draco rolled his eyes, the tops of this cheeks turning pink as he strode towards the door.

“And I will never doubt you again,” Harry laughed, following Draco out of the classroom and back into the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! and i apologize if it seems to be going slow. hopefully the next chapter will be exciting enough to make up for it. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yeah hi wow okay gosh, i just. thank you guys so much for the comments and kudos???? i literally squealed in my car after getting off work at 1am and i am just. so fucking thankful??? you're all fantastic and i love you all, but not in a creepy way. more like how i love every single dog i see happily leaning its entire furry head out the window of a moving car, with its tongue and ears flapping about in the wind. you know what i mean? that feeling of pure love and joy as you watch an innocent creature living its absolute best life.  
> god, you guys make me feel like an excited dog going on its first car ride.  
> sorry if that was weird, but i love dogs. and i'm not sorry that i love dogs.  
> but here's a new chapter!   
> hope you enjoy, and sorry for my ramblings! :)

_ Harry _

_ I will start this letter off by saying that I am safe, so you needn’t worry yourself about that. Buckbeak is as well, although there have been a couple calls closer than I would have preferred. _

_ Now that that part is out of the way, I would like to address the situation with your golden menace, and I do not mean your clue for the tournament. I understand how it feels to be alienated and separated from your friends, but that doesn’t mean that you should shack up with the first person that crosses your path! Seriously, Harry? I had been hoping against all hope that those articles were the usual rubbish that the  _ Prophet  _ prints, and you had to turn around and take that away from me? I feel hurt and betrayed, and seem to be completely losing my mind despite no longer being in the presence of dementors.  _

_ Unfortunately, I am well aware of just how stubborn you Potters can be, so I know that it is probably futile to try forcing you away from the boy through guilt. However, I implore you to think this through, and if you are as set as I believe you to be, then be cautious. I know how deep your faith runs - don’t give this the chance to break you.  _

_ Speaking of deep, you have to swim to the bottom of the lake and stay there for an hour? That’s.. Interesting, to say the least. If you haven’t had any ideas so far, I would like to propose an idea; there are a few ways that you can get through this task, and potions and spells would be your safest bet. There are a few potions that I remember skimming through during my own years at Hogwarts, although I do not remember their names or what books they are in, or even if they are still in the school at all. If you are unable to locate any of those, then I suggest looking through some of the advanced charms texts in the library. Whatever you do, DO NOT USE THE BUBBLE HEAD CHARM. It is weak and easily broken, and would do absolutely nothing flattering to your face. There will be pictures taken for the paper, and I am sure that you would much rather not look like fish trapped in a potion vial on the front page. If you can, I would like for you to update me again soon if you figure anything out on time so that I know that you will be protected well enough. _

_ Remember to take care of yourself, and always be aware of those around you. _

_ -Sirius _

_ *** _

“Maybe you should ask Granger,”

“Why can’t you ask her yourself?”

Draco looked at Harry skeptically, one pale eyebrow rising slowly. 

Harry groaned. “Okay, yeah, I admit that was a stupid question,” he grumbled, picking at a frayed string on his sleeve. “But you know that she won’t help me anyway,”

“Probably not,” the blond admitted, shrugging. “Asking her about potions or spellwork, however, may distract her enough to let her prattle on a bit before catching herself.”

“Sorry, but I’d rather not get lectured over breakfast, and I absolutely would regardless of if she told me what I was asking about or not,”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Draco asked, glancing over and narrowing his eyes slightly at something behind Harry. Harry opened his mouth to ask, but promptly shut it as a pair of hands landed heavily on his shoulders, cutting him off.

“Oh, we have loads of better ideas, wouldn’t you say, George?”

Harry twisted around in his seat to see the Fred and George standing directly behind his chair, both twins having one hand placed on Harry’s shoulders. Harry grinned up at their freckled faces, happy to see them.

“What are you guys doing here?” Harry asked, gesturing for them both to take a seat on some of the few remaining chairs in the abandoned classroom.

“Well, we were minding our own business, walking down the hallways on the fifth floor,” Fred started, twisting his chair around and sitting on it backwards, leaning his forearms on the back.

“When suddenly, Peeves set off a huge explosion in a classroom right behind us,” George cut in, mimicking his brother and turning his chair around. “Clearly, we had to leave before Filch spotted us,”

“So we decided to hide out upstairs for a while, when we heard the voices,” Fred grinned at Harry, his smile not faltering in the slightest when he looked over at Draco, who wrinkled his nose slightly but didn’t comment.

“And who else would we happen to stumble across but our wee ole Harry!” George crowed, reaching over to ruffle Harry’s already wild hair. The twins laughed as Harry batted the hands away and attempted to flatten his hair back down.

“You aren’t going to accomplish anything that way,” Draco drawled, amusement clearly warring with annoyance at the twins on his face.

If Fred or George noticed, they didn’t care. “What did you need a better idea for, anyhow?” George asked, tapping his fingers on the back of the chair.

“Something to help me breathe underwater for an hour or so,” Harry answered, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms behind his head.

“Gillyweed?” Fred said, looking over at George who shrugged and nodded.

“Gilly _ what _ ?” Harry asked, lowering his arms as he looked between the two redheads in confusion.

“No,” Draco cut in, glancing away from Harry and towards the twins. “According to his godfather, Potty here is supposed to stay away from anything that would be considered, ah,” he coughed,  “unflattering.”

“According to Sirius, eh?” George asked, grinning at Draco as he elbowed his twin. 

“Of course Sirius,” Harry said, furrowing his eyebrows. “How many godfathers do you think I have?”

“Oh, just the one,” Fred and George laughed while Draco narrowed his eyes at the twins. Harry just shook his head in confusion.

“Anyway,” Harry said, trying to steer the conversation back to a place where he knew what was going on, “do either of you have any ideas besides this Gilly-whatever you mentioned?”

“Gillyweed, Potty. It is a magical underwater plant that, when consumed-”

“Makes a Harry-sized human-fish hybrid!” Fred exclaimed, cutting Draco off as the twins began laughing again.

“Right,” Harry answered slowly. “Okay, so any other ideas that don’t involve turning me into a fish? Any spells or potions?”

“Well, we can certainly look into it and see what we can find, if you really need us to,” George answered, still grinning.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Fred answered, nudging George with his elbow.

“Great,” Harry answered, exhaling heavily.

“What’s the catch?” Draco asked, watching the twins suspiciously.

“Who said anything about a catch?” Fred asked innocently.

“Draco, really, its fine,” Harry said. “Anything they can come up with will be absolutely brilliant and loads better than an air bubble or growing fins,”

“Aw, did you hear that, Gred? Harry trusts us!” George practically cheered.

“That means we can’t let him down, Forge,” Fred replied, just as excitedly.

Draco glanced at Harry quickly before shaking his head in bewilderment and turning to focus on the twins, “Just so we’re clear, Harry needs something that won’t endanger him or change his outward appearance however drastically, and will allow him to remain underwater for preferably over an hour to be cautious. Do you find that to be doable?”

“‘Course, Malfoy,” George snorted.

“We’d never do anything to endanger out wee ole Harry,” Fred shook his head. “Besides,”

“We love a challenge!” The twins chorused, jumping out of their seats and speeding from the room.

“That was rather… odd,” Draco said, watching the door to the classroom slowly swing shut.

“They are pretty strange,” Harry agreed, smiling slightly. The twins were fantastic, and Harry was grateful that they didn’t care about everything that was going on with him. Knowing that he had Draco, along with Fred and George to help him, Harry felt calm and relieved for the first time since his name had been spit out of that bloody cup.

***

Upon waking up, Harry immediately groaned and rolled over, burrowing his head deeper beneath his pillow and blankets. 

“What’s the matter, Valentine’s Day too dull for the  _ Chosen One _ ?” A harsh voice spit out from behind the bed hangings. “Must be difficult to make it to class on time with a crowd of adoring fans following you through the halls all day,”

“Sod off, Ron,” Harry snapped, yanking the covers off his head to glare at the ceiling. “It isn’t my fault that you can’t find a date,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron yelled, tearing the curtains around Harry’s bed open and glaring, his freckles almost completely obscured by the violent shade of red his face was turning.

“It means,” Harry growled, pushing himself up onto his knees and reaching for his glasses and shoving them on his face, “that your  _ charming  _ personality is the reason that you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day! It is how you created a spectacle of yourself by asking Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball, after all, and then showed up alone! Don’t blame me because you somehow manage to cock-up every time you bloody talk to a girl,” Harry finished on a yell, breathing heavily through his nose as he watched Ron’s face turn from red to nearly purple.

“At least I attempted to get a date,” Ron nearly howled before launching himself onto Harry’s bed, swinging an arm at Harry’s face. Ducking to the side, Harry barely dodged the fist before twisting himself around and rolling on top of the redhead, using the blankets still covering his legs in an attempt to slow down Ron’s flailing limbs. Shouting incoherently, Ron snapped his head forward harshly, the force knocking Harry off balance as a sharp pain seemed to explode on the left side of his jaw. Harry grunted, doing his best to ignore the pain as he lunged forward again, knocking the boy’s head back with his elbow before grabbing hold of Ron’s hands and pinning them to the bed as he practically sat on his torso, keeping his own head well out of headbutting distance as Ron continued to thrash around beneath him. 

Still struggling to release his arms, Ron glared balefully up at Harry and bit out, “At least I  _ tried _ , which is more than the Chosen One is capable of, isn’t it? You were the one throwing hexes when anyone approached you, and for what? To end up going to the ball with a slimy git like  _ Malfoy _ ? I can’t wait to find out what that prat did to wrap you around his finger, Potter, because it’s going to be  _ big _ , and then  _ you’ll _ be the one crawling back to  _ us  _ when everything’s said and done,”

“You leave Draco out of this,  _ Weasley _ ,” Harry snarled, narrowing his eyes as he leaned his face in as close as he dared, “because he didn’t force me into anything. If you’d like to recall,  _ you’re _ the one that pushed  _ me  _ away,” Harry rested the majority of his weight onto his hands, effectively crushing Ron’s wrists to the mattress. “And isn’t that something? Because standing beside me, you felt like you were nobody. But standing against me?” Harry chuckled lowly, morbidly pleased at the way the boy beneath him flinched as flecks of blood from Harry’s split lip peppered his already freckled face with each harsh word bitten out. “I’ll make sure of it,”

Releasing his hold on Ron and rolling off the mattress entirely, Harry snagged his wand from the stand beside his bed and wiped his sleeve across his mouth with barely a wince. He spun around and froze, confronted with the rest of their dorm mates standing in a half circle around the bed, looking uncomfortable and confused. Harry shrugged, ignoring them as much as the throbbing in his lip and jaw as he dug through his trunk, pulling out clean clothes for the day and left the dorm for the showers, his wand a comforting and steady presence beside him while he got ready for breakfast.

***

“What did you do to your face, Potter?” Parkinson asked, eyes wide as Harry sat down in his usual seat at the Slytherin table. Draco’s head snapped up at the question, grey eyes immediately narrowing as he neatly set down his spoon and pulled out his wand.

“Got headbutted,” Harry answered, looking up at the bright blue ceiling as pale fingers gently gripped the right side of his jaw, turning his head carefully to the side to look at the darkening bruise and split lip. Harry was glad that the only year Valentine’s Day seemed to have been properly celebrated was when Professor Lockhart had been here during his second year. He didn’t know what he’d end up doing if he had to deal with that much pink and red and lacy bits every year.

“By whom?” Draco asked in a clipped voice as he lifted his wand.

“Who do you think?” Harry sighed, fighting back a grin at the charms cast between angry mutterings.

“You’ll need a salve for the bruising, but that should take care of the split lip and pain,” Draco announced as he put his wand away, still staring critically at Harry’s jaw.

“Thanks,” Harry grinned, suddenly starving now that the constant throbbing of his mouth was gone and immediately started heaping his plate with food.

“I suppose that’s why Weasley is sporting a black eye, then,” Parkinson observed, the corner of her mouth ticking up slightly as she glanced back at Harry and Draco.

“Most likely,” Harry grinned back at her, twisting to look behind himself towards the Gryffindor table. Harry easily spotted Ron and Hermione at the table; Ron seemed to be slumping further in his seat and glaring at his plate, and Hermione was waving her hands around frantically, no doubt lecturing him about whatever it was she had been told about the whole thing.

“Granger seems to be laying into him pretty badly,” Draco said, a slight sneer in his voice that Harry wasn’t sure was from the mention of Hermione or Ron, or the combination of the two.

“Yeah, she’s good at that,” Harry answered, a small smile on his face as he remembered getting lectured about his own stupid decisions.

“What was the fight even about?” Parkinson asked, drumming her red nails on the table.

“Oh, well,” Harry started and grimaced, but was saved from answering as wave after wave of owls swooped into the Great Hall to deliver the morning mail. His relief was short lived, however, as a cluster of owls seemed to change direction in a heartbeat and zero in on the Slytherin table. “Your parents wouldn’t happen to overload the Slytherin dorms with chocolates every year, would they?” Harry asked meekly, eyes wide and hopeful as he glanced around the table at the rest of the students.

“Not delivered in those horridly wrapped parcels, no,” Draco answered, watching the birds in interest as a few broke out of the cluster to deliver their burdens to other students. 

Harry sighed in resignation as the first owl landed on his shoulder. He reached up to untie the package from its leg, secretly glad that most of the wizarding world seemed to hate him right now, if only to lessen the amount of letters and gifts he’d receive for Valentine’s Day.

After the commotion had died down and all the owls had been gifted scraps of food from Harry’s plate, he was pleased to find that he had only gotten thirteen letters and gifts, seeing as the owls that had swarmed the table were more distracting and difficult to count.

“There were only thirteen,” he stated happily, searching through the letters to see if one had been from Sirius.

Parkinson had snickered. “Don’t let Trelawney hear you say that,” she grinned, reaching into his pile and snagging a cauldron cake in the shape of a heart.

“Mind what you take, Pansy,” Draco drawled, waving his wand and casting a revealing charm at the cauldron cake, watching the way the packaging illuminated. Harry didn’t know what Draco was looking for, but when the cake glowed a brilliant purple, Draco immediately banished it. “Potty’s fans are crazy, and you could have been stuck under a love spell with no witch nearby to fawn over,” he stowed his wand, looking smug as Parkinson pouted.

“If any of the other sweets aren’t contaminated, you can have them,” Harry told Pansy distractedly, picking up a random letter once he saw that none were from his godfather. 

Draco took the letter out of Harry’s hands and glared at him before casting the spell again, watching as the paper glowed a very faint blue before handing it back. “It can affect more than just sweets, Potty,” 

“Then you can check them all, if you’d like,” Harry sighed, sitting back and waiting as he watched a chocolate frog Parkinson picked out light up the same light blue as the letter before quickly dying out. She ripped open the package happily, taking a bite out of the head before the spellwork in the frog could prompt it to jump away.

***

Classes for the day were pretty uneventful and rather boring, Harry was pleased to find out. Nobody really followed him around this year either, although small group of first years in the corridor had paused to push one of their own out of the cluster - a little brunette girl with pigtails and wide blue eyes - and they giggled as the poor child managed to stammer out a quiet ‘ _ Hello, Mr Potter! _ ’ before turning and fleeing back into the sanctuary of her friends. Harry had only smiled and continued walking, much to Draco’s amusement.

“Good luck in class today,  _ Mr Potter _ ,” he had mocked, stepping in front of Harry and walking backwards as he brought his hands up to rest under his chin, his eyes wide and gleaming. “I hope you have a lovely Valentine’s Day,  _ Mr Potter _ , would you like to sit with me at lunch today? I know that you don’t even sit with your own house at mealtimes. Gosh,  _ you’re so brave, Mr Potter! _ ”

“You’re such a prat,” Harry snorted, walking around Draco and bumping their shoulders together in a bid to make him turn around. 

Catching up, Draco glanced down and gasped, “Your shoe is untied! Would you like me to tie it for you,  _ Mr Potter _ ?” 

“Merlin, Draco, she’s a child! And she only said hello!” Harry flapped his hands around, equal parts exasperated and amused. He cast a discreet glance down at his still completely knotted shoelaces.

“Child or not, she should learn that fawning will only make her look foolish,” he sniffed, raising his chin up haughtily.

“She wasn’t  _ fawning _ , you git,” Harry shook his head.

“How would you know?”

“I just do?”

“One of the perks that come along with being the Boy Who Lived, I gather?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call being able to tell that an eleven year old child greeting me in the hallway isn’t the same as someone falling all over me a gift,” Harry pointed out, grimacing as he realized they were nearly to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“ _ Either way _ ,” Draco said pointedly, “it is important that she learn-”

“Inside!” A gruff voice barked, the door to the classroom bursting open and cutting Draco off. Harry felt only slightly guilty that he was grateful to be spared another lecture. On their way into the room, however, Harry realized that his relief must have been apparent on his face, if the way Draco was now glaring at him from across the room was any indication.

Wincing, Harry set his stuff down and took his seat next to Neville, who greeted Harry with a rather shaky smile. Seeing Neville, Harry immediately felt bad about what happened that morning in the dorm, and what the rest of the boys had probably thought about Ron and Harry fighting like a couple of second years.

“Look,” Harry sighed, speaking quietly in the hopes of not drawing attention to himself from either Moody or Ron, who was seated in the row in front of them. “About what happened-”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Neville cut him off, which surprised Harry, considering how quiet the Gryffindor usually was, “really. We know you didn’t start it, even though some of the other boys thought it was deserved,” he frowned then, flipping through his defense book idly. “I can’t say that I know the full story about what’s been going on between you and Ron, but I don’t think it’s really my business, now is it?” Neville shrugged, glancing at the desk in front of them where Ron and Hermione were seated, “I’m still your friend, Harry, and you don’t have to apologize or explain anything to me. It isn’t my business,” Neville looked directly at Harry then, his lips pulled into a lopsided grin over slightly crooked teeth, and Harry beamed back in relief, overcome with an almost giddy urge to hug the boy beside him.

“Thank you, Neville,” Harry said seriously, throat tight with emotion for the ridiculously shy yet loyal Gryffindor, and he briefly wondered how anybody could possibly think that there wasn’t anything special about Neville Longbottom, when he so clearly deserved every bit of kindness that he has ever given out heaped back onto him tenfold? 

“No problem, mate,” Neville answered, smiling awkwardly at whatever expression he saw on Harry’s face. 

Harry cleared his throat, face colouring slightly in embarrassment as he opened his defense book to the page number written on the board to begin the reading. Once on the correct page, Harry glanced around the room surreptitiously, all but shrinking into his seat in an effort to hide when his gaze was caught by a pair of furious grey eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy cow i'm already super excited to write the next chapter!   
> thank you all so much for reading!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all so fantastic it makes me want to scream???
> 
> also, i'm horribly sorry it took me so long to update. i had roughly half the chapter written mid-august, and planned on updating it in september. but unfortunately for me, and everyone involved in my life, september was an absolutely taxing and difficult month. i don't necessarily want to go into any details about it, but i just couldn't muster up the motivation to really think about anything else, much less get my mind to quiet down enough to focus.
> 
> but nevertheless! the update is here now, and i never once forgot about this story, so i hope that nobody was worried or frustrated thinking that i did!
> 
> as always, thank you all so much for the wonderful comments and kudos, it means the world to me. hope you enjoy x

The end of the day on Friday found Harry sitting in an out of the way corner of the Gryffindor common room with Hermione, going over their transfiguration essays. Well, Hermione was going over their essays; Harry was just complaining.

“And really, why throw me into this tournament in the first place if they’re going to keep bombarding me with homework?” Harry lamented, laying sideways on the couch with one foot draped across Hermione’s lap, and the other hanging precariously on the back behind her head, much to her discomfort and annoyance. “Seriously, ‘Mione. They expect me to study these tasks and do homework at the same time, knowing that I could die a very unfortunate and untimely death! Sorry, but the threat of imminent death hasn’t proven to be a great motivator in studying the last three years, what makes them expect it will be this year?”

Hermione let out a very heavy, long suffering sigh, setting the parchment she was proofreading down. “Have you thought about the fact that the other three champions also have piles of homework to do as well, along with studying for their tasks? They’re seventh years, Harry. This school year is the most important year for them - the deciding factor of their futures! You don’t think they’re terrified for their lives as well?”

“Yeah, well, they signed up for this. I didn’t,” Harry grumbled, turning to shove his face into a cushion. Hermione only hummed noncommittally, and Harry groaned in annoyance, pushing himself up off the couch, barely refraining from accidentally kicking Hermione in the back of the head when swinging his leg down. “Fine, I’m going to go look for Fred and George. At least they seem to care if I live or die, rather than the state of my bloody grades when they’re pulling my mangled and waterlogged corpse out from the bottom of the lake,”

Hermione glared up at him immediately, shock and hurt painting her features while her usually warm brown eyes held nothing but cold anger. “Harry James Potter,” she stated lowly, her voice completely even and sounding all the more dangerous for it. “If you ever so much as attempt to insinuate that I care more about school work than I do  _ your life _ -”

“Hermione, stop,” Harry cut her off, pleading as guilt wormed its way through his gut. “I didn’t mean it like that,”

“Oh?” She said, voice still too steady and harsh for Harry’s liking. “How was I meant to take it, then?”

Collapsing back onto the sofa, Harry dropped his head into his hands and sighed loudly. Voice muffled, he said, “I didn’t mean  _ you _ . I know you care, I just- Merlin, I’m just so bloody stressed and scared and I can’t even concentrate on so much as thinking about any properties of an antidote to whatever stupid potion Snape talks about in class, much less focus long enough to write a fifteen inch essay on it! I’m not even seventeen, and they’re forcing me into this stupid tournament! Shouldn’t there have been some kind of law where a guardian or whoever had to consent to letting me risk my life over and over? Because I certainly didn’t get asked about it,” Harry removed his hands from his face and plopped them into his lap, frowning down at them. Bitterly, he added, “You know what? They probably didn’t even ask anyone about it. Merlin knows that even if they asked the Dursleys, they’d all but push me into that damned lake themselves, if only for a chance to get rid of me.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Hermione started quietly, her voice much softer. Harry refused to look up at her. “Dumbledore said himself that entering your name into the goblet created a legal magically binding contract. It’s such a grey area. As with most bindings, whether it be between two people or one person and an inanimate object, they have a certain way of skirting around the law in one form or another, depending on the oaths taken. Since this contract stated that you couldn’t take back your entry after placing your name in the fire, there wasn’t much that they could do, not even with you being underage or claiming to not have placed your name.” Hermione had reached out and placed her hand on Harry’s arm gently, squeezing her reassurance into his skin. “I’m sure they don’t like it any more than you do,”

“They why couldn’t they have just pretended to throw me into this, then?” Harry threw his arms up suddenly, startling Hermione into snatching her hand back. “They couldn’t have just given me a baby dragon, or an old sleepy grandpa dragon that couldn’t care less what was going on around him? Or had pretended to throw me into this, to satisfy the contract but failing me at the task? They could have done  _ something,  _ ‘Mione, and they chose not to! They chose to throw me into this tournament as though I had asked for it, and then didn’t bat an eyelash when a fourteen year old child almost got baked to death by an angry mother dragon, and now they’re going to throw me into a lake and do nothing but sit and watch passively as I have to fight for my life yet again! I am so sick of fighting, Hermione, you have no idea,” Harry was panting at the end of his rant, and from Hermione’s wide eyes, she was quite shocked as well.

“Harry,” she had started hesitantly, but he didn’t even think about it being rude to cut someone off as he spoke over her. He needed to say what he was feeling, or else he was going to explode.

“It’s been four years! If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. What do you think the odds are that I’m going to plunge down into that lake and come face to face with Voldemort? It happened that very first year, with Quirrell, and the second with that bloody diary. Last year it was a prophecy and Wormtail. I’d say I have a brilliant chance at going to find what the merpeople took from me, only to find out that it’s just another form of Tom Riddle disguised as a Grindylow, trying to snap my fingers off so that I can’t duel him properly,” Harry figured that he may have sounded a tad bit hysterical, but he felt loads better. Hopefully Hermione would let him pass off his sudden distress as nerves for the upcoming task.

It was only half a week away, after all.

“Have you come up with any solutions for the next task, then?” Hermione asked curiously. Harry thought she was just trying to distract him so that he’d stop yelling, but decided to go along with it anyway. Maybe she’d be able to think of something else anyway, if she didn’t lecture him over his ideas.

“In a way,” he hedged, squirming uncomfortably on the sofa. At Hermione’s raised brow, he sighed dramatically. “Alright, yes. Well, kind of. I was talking to Draco and got interrupted by the twins. You know how they are,” Harry flapped a hand at the look on her face, “and they overheard what we were talking about. So, Draco and I filled them in, and they decided to help, I guess? You know they’re brilliant with inventions,” Harry pointed out, rather helpfully, he thought.

“And what happened to not being allowed outside help?” Hermione questioned, crossing her arms and giving Harry a  _ look _ .

“I figured that all flew out the window the moment I was illegally entered into a deadly tournament,” Harry shrugged, unconcerned. “And with how Professor Moody seems far too concerned about me getting my clues figured out. He seems way too invested in this,”

“Well, he could just be worried about you. He is an auror, after all,” she pointed out, rather too logically in Harry’s opinion.

“Yeah, but he could back off a bit, at least. It’s a bit creepy, having his magical eye follow me around in class for no reason,” Harry mused, trailing off.

“Perhaps Dumbledore asked him to keep an eye on you?”

Harry snorted. “What good would him keeping an eye on me do if Moody’s only ever watching me when I’m around Draco?”

“It isn’t like Professor Moody doesn’t have a reason to distrust the Malfoys,”

“You think Dumbledore asked Moody to watch me to make sure that Draco doesn’t whisk me away and ship me off somewhere? That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, shaking his head vigorously. “If that were the case, then why isn’t every other teacher watching me as well when Moody isn’t around?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted reluctantly, scribbling something out on her parchment. Harry straightened up suddenly as something occurred to him, startling Hermione and almost causing her to knock over her ink pot as she was trying to dip her quill into it. She turned to glare at him, but he wasn’t paying attention to that.

“Hermione,” Harry said, reaching for her arm. “What if Dumbledore  _ didn’t  _ ask any of the teachers to watch out for me? If he did, then it wouldn’t have just been Moody, he would have asked McGonagall too, at least,” Hermione’s eyebrows crinkled up in confusion. “What if Moody is just watching me because he wants to?” Harry’s eyes widened comically as something else jumped out at him. “What if  _ Moody’s _ the one that put my name in the goblet?”

“Harry,” Hermione started in exasperation, but Harry cut her off, excitement and dread swirling around inside of him at the realization. 

“He’s an  _ auror _ , ‘Mione! If anyone would know how to get around Dumbledore’s enchantments, it’s him,” he insisted, shaking Hermione’s arm slightly in a desperate bid to get his point across. “It makes sense! He’s been following me around all year, asking me about my plans for the tasks,” suddenly full of energy he wasn’t feeling moments ago, Harry jumped up and started pacing in agitation. “He keeps popping up around corners and watching me, and he-” Harry froze, his hands still halfway through dragging his hair, “Moody still has my map! He has it, and he’s been following me around more than usual and popping up the most when I’m with Draco.”

“What does Malfoy have to do with any of this?” Hermione interrupted him, reaching out and gripping his arm to keep him in place.

“I don’t know yet,” Harry grimaced, plopping back down on the couch. “But I’ll find out! I’ll-”

“Harry,” Hermione interrupted him again more forcefully, and Harry shut his mouth more in frustration than compliance. “Why would Professor Moody be trying to help you during this tournament if he was the one who put your name in the cup to begin with, according to your theory?”

“Sabotage?” Harry slumped further into his seat. “I don’t know, but the moment the thought popped into my head, it just felt  _ right _ . Like my instincts have been screaming at me all year to stay as far away from Moody as possible, and now my gut thinks that he’s the one that set me up in this tournament to begin with. I’m not just going to disregard this,”

“And what about your  _ brain _ , Harry? What about logic and reasoning?” Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione held up a hand, halting his tongue. “Because as much as you might think this is right, might feel it is, you still have no proof to back it.”

“Then I’ll find the proof,” Harry stated firmly, already running through scenarios in his head. It’d be much easier if he still had map.

***

Saturday dawned bright and early, and Harry was already sick of it. He had taken to getting up earlier than the rest of his dorm mates so as to avoid bumping into Ron before breakfast, and ultimately not getting into any unnecessary fights. It had seemed like a good tactic at the time, at least until Harry realized that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in on weekends as well as school days.

Reluctantly dragging himself out of bed, Harry swiftly grabbed his clothes as quietly as he could and walked to the showers to get ready for breakfast. Agitation was not a very promising start to a morning, but it would have to do for now. 

Thankfully, Harry was alone in the showers. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand having to deal with anyone right now without snapping at them. Choosing the furthest stall from the door, Harry twisted the knob to the hottest setting before stepping under the scalding spray and wasting no time in scrubbing himself down, wanting to get to down to the Great Hall as soon as he could.

He was so sick of this constant tiptoeing around his own dorm, his own friends. At least Neville didn’t hate him. Although, thinking of that conversation he had with Neville in class, Harry couldn’t get the look of undisguised resentment that painted Draco’s features out of his head. It had confused Harry endlessly, and he hadn’t even been able to talk to the barmy Slytherin about it after class, for Draco had all but sprinted out the door the moment Moody had dismissed them.

Stepping out of the shower, Harry furiously dried himself off, probably knotting his already untamable hair even more with his vigorous rubbing of the towel. Since it wouldn’t do him any good anyway, Harry didn’t bother brushing his hair as he practically threw his clothes back on and shoved his wand into his pocket. 

Knowing he was being ridiculous but not caring very much about it at the moment, Harry stomped his way to the Great Hall, his irritation mounting. Whatever had put him in a bad mood was unknown, but he decided to just go with it. It was Saturday, and if Harry wanted to be in a strope all day, then he felt he was very much entitled to it, thank you.  

Harry marched to the Slytherin table with a glare that would have made Snape proud if the man didn’t already hate him and plopped himself down harshly next to Crabbe, startling the poor lump of a boy and making him spill his goblet of pumpkin juice all down his front. Harry brandished his wand with a growl and vanished the mess, pointedly ignoring the surprised and wary looks from the few other students seated at the table as he began piling his plate with bacon and eggs.

“Well, good morning to you too, Potter,” Parkinson drawled sarcastically as she smothered her piece of toast in jam. Harry just grunted around his mouthful of bacon, causing her to wrinkle her nose in distaste.

Harry ignored her, continuing to practically stuff his face instead. If he kept his mouth full, then he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. He knew that was illogical, but it seemed like a good tactic for now.

“Am I to assume that your Gryffindor paradise is what has you in such a foul mood?” She tried again, and if Harry wasn’t feeling so horribly irate, he would have been fascinated that Pansy Parkinson seemed to be making an effort to talk to him.

As it was, Harry was still pissed off and after swallowing a rather large clump of eggs, only managed to refrain from snapping when he said, “just woke up like this,” before snagging a couple slices of toast for himself and slathering them with butter.

Pansy hummed as she took a reasonably sized bite of her toast, watching him calculatingly. She swallowed pointedly before asking, “Does this have anything to do with your disagreement with Draco?”

Harry froze midchew, swallowed thickly and took a drink of water in an attempt to think before speaking. Disagreement with Draco? “What disagreement?”

“Excuse me?” She asked incredulously, raising a single sculpted eyebrow.

“Didn’t have a disagreement as far as I know,” Harry responded moodily before focusing back on his plate of food.

“He seems to think you did,” Pansy said, her mouth curved down into a frown.

“Yeah, wouldn’t stop going on about you yesterday after we got out of defense,” Goyle supplied helpfully, while Crabbe nodded in agreement. Both of their expressions were so earnest that Harry didn’t know what to make of it.

“What the bloody hell happened in defense? I was there the whole class,” Harry argued, sitting back in his seat in confusion.

“Dunno. Something about you and Longbottom,” Crabbe answered, promptly stuffing his face with potatoes. 

Harry’s face screwed up in confusion. Neville?

“I believe Draco seemed to think you were flirting with him,” Pansy said, her lips curling back upwards into a smirk.

“Draco’s mad because he thought that I was flirting with him, and then sat next to Neville?” Harry asked, bemused.

“Potter, you and I both know that you aren’t as thick as you appear to be,” Pansy sighed in exasperation. “Draco thought you were flirting with  _ Longbottom _ , you dolt.  _ He was jealous.” _

“What does that have to do with us having a disagreement? We haven’t even spoken since before that class!” Harry threw his hands up in the air to emphasize his irritation. Bloody Slytherins.

“And just why do you think that is?” Pansy asked, tapping one dark red nail on the table in boredom.

“Because apparently, Draco is an insecure fool, and was jealous because I was talking to Neville, when he thought I was flirting with him?” Harry shook his head violently. “The barmy git. I don’t feel anything for Neville except the same affection I have for any one of my friends - well, most of them. But that isn’t the point! Why in the name of Merlin is he creating a problem that isn’t even there?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Pansy challenged.

“Maybe because Draco is the one blowing the situation out of proportion? Neville was just talking to me, wanting to make sure that I knew he didn’t hold anything that Ron had been saying against me. Is that so bad? Am I not allowed to be reassured that my  _ entire  _ house doesn’t hate me? That I have at least one ally in my own dorm full of impulsive and hot-headed boys that turned on me in a heartbeat just because one of them felt slighted? Bloody buggering  _ fuck _ . I’m going to the library,” Harry got up suddenly, feeling ridiculous for lashing out but still angry enough to not feel slightly guilty at the shocked looks on any of their faces.

“But I thought you were banned from the library?” Pansy interrupted before Harry could walk away.

“Don’t really care,” Harry shrugged as he turned around and proceeded to stomp his way back out of the Great Hall, nearly bumping into Ron and Seamus when he passed through the doors. 

“Watch where you’re going, Potter,” Ron snapped.

Harry only snorted, rolling his eyes. 

Ron opened his mouth again, but Seamus stepped in, looking between the two of them with an unreadable expression as he quietly spoke, “just leave it mate,” to Ron before ushering him into the Great Hall.

***

“Potter.” Harry sighed.

“Draco,” he answered pointedly, not looking away from the herbology textbook in front of him. It was about the magical properties of plants and how consuming them in different ways could affect someone. He even found a few paragraphs on that Gillyweed plant that the twins were talking about. Harry grudgingly admitted that it was rather intriguing, not that he would ever tell Hermione that, lest she take it as a signal to gift him more textbooks.

“I heard that you were at breakfast,”

“Well, one does have to eat, and all that,” Harry waved his hand in a vague gesture, which Draco apparently took as an offer to sit down across from him.

“Pansy told me she spoke to you,”

“Yes, we tend to do that on occasion, Pansy and I,” Harry replied blandly, turning the page in his book. Draco huffed.

_ “Potter,” _

“Hm?” Harry hummed, copying a line from the pages onto his parchment. He knew that his lack of attention was a surefire way to irritate the other boy, but Hogwarts be damned if Harry wasn’t going to make things difficult for him. Draco was the one that started this not-a-problem problem in the first place.

“Oh, for Circe’s sake,” Draco growled, lunging forward suddenly and slamming Harry’s herbology book shut. Harry was so startled that he could only sit back and stare when Draco sneered, “I am  _ trying  _ to talk to you.”

“Don’t see why. It isn’t like you were dying to talk to me yesterday,” Harry answered snidely. Yanking his book back harshly with a glare at the blond, Harry flipped the pages back open. The fury on the Slytherin’s face diminished slightly when Harry only marked his place in the book before closing it again, but it was only slightly.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Maybe because I didn’t do anything wrong?” Harry retorted, incredulous.

“You were flirting with Longbottom!”

“I bloody well was not!” Harry answered vehemently. “Why do you care if I was, anyway?”

“I don’t! Stop being a git, Potter. I am attempting to apologize,” Draco snapped, crossing his arms across his chest.

Harry decided to ignore that first part altogether. “Really? I never would have guessed from the lack of apologies you’ve given me so far,”

Draco turned away and glared off to the side, focusing on the rows of books beside them than at Harry. “Listen, you arse. I’m apologizing for ignoring you yesterday,”

Harry waited a beat before saying, “And?”

“And?” Draco scowled. “And for starting another argument?”

“And?” Harry asked again, oddly pleased to see Draco’s cheeks pink up in frustration. Draco looked about ready to explode.

“And  _ what?”  _ Draco seethed, turning angry eyes back onto Harry so suddenly that he had to resist the urge to flinch. “I’m  _ sorry,  _ alright? Sorry for the way I acted, sorry for not speaking to you about it before complaining to my friends, and I’m bloody sorry for being selfish! I don’t share very well, you berk,”

“What does you being selfish have to do with anything?” Harry asked, perplexed. “I already knew that,” When the blond didn’t answer, instead deciding to focus on the book titles beside him, Harry pushed slightly with a soft, “Draco?”

“I didn’t like seeing you so chummy with Longbottom,” he muttered, voice quiet that if they had been anywhere else but in the library, Harry probably wouldn’t have heard him.

“So Pansy wasn’t just spewing nonsense? You were actually jealous? Of  _ Neville?” _ Harry said, his eyebrows raising in amusement.

“I am  _ not  _ jealous of  _ Longbottom,”  _ Draco sneered again, and Harry cracked a small smile.

“So you were jealous of me, then,” Harry grinned at the look of outrage he got in return.

“I’m not jealous at all!” Draco insisted.

“Okay, so you were selfishly angry that I was talking to another friend from my house affectionately, and you decided to ignore me instead of telling me that you were upset,” Harry nodded in understanding, as if it actually made sense. It probably did to the Slytherin.

“Something like that,” he grumbled, slouching in his seat and glaring at the table.

“Alright,” Harry conceded, flipping his book open once more. “I forgive you,”

“Just like that?” Draco asked, aghast.

“Just like that,” Harry confirmed, grinning up at Draco stunned face.

He seemed to physically shake himself before dropping the subject, leaning forward and rapping his knuckles on the other book Harry had set on the table thoughtfully. “What are these for, then?”

Harry frowned down at the books thoughtfully. “Magical plants and their usage in the wizarding world,” 

“Obviously. I can read, you know,” Draco responded with a curled lip. “I was inquiring as to why you were reading them.”

“Dunno. Seemed interesting?”

“They seemed interesting.” Draco repeated, eyebrows rising in amusement. “And are you interested?”

“What?” Harry’s face screwed up in bemusement. Why would he still be reading the herbology books if he found them lacking?

“Are you interested, Potty. Keep up,” 

“..With the books?” Harry asked slowly, at a complete loss. At least Draco had called him Potty again. Although just why he was content with such a ridiculous nickname, he wasn’t sure.

Rolling his eyes, Draco stood up. “If you’re finding it this difficult to maintain a conversation after reading a few chapters, I’d hate to see what you’re like after one of Granger’s forced study binges.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry grinned, packing his books up and putting them in his bag to read later. Was it still considered stealing if he didn’t check them out with Madam Pince, but intended on bringing them back in a week anyway just to avoid getting caught in the library? “I don’t pay attention during those anyway. I don’t find them very  _ interesting,”  _ he joked, slinging his bag onto one of his shoulders for easier access and motioning for Draco to follow him into the rows of shelves. He followed along willingly, albeit slowly.

When Harry paused far enough away for no one to walk passed and see them, he dug through his bag quickly. Draco stopped as well, turning towards Harry and eyeing him intently.

“What does captivate your interest, then?”

Harry glanced up and froze at the intensity gleaming in the grey eyes trained completely on him. It almost seemed conjured, how suddenly the direct focus centered on Harry within the span of one heartbeat and the next. He couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

Clenching his fists in a vain attempt to ground himself, he felt a piece of parchment crumple. Why did he have his hand in his bag?

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, his face heating as his gaze snapped back down to the open bag in his hands. “Er, not books, usually?”

Draco snorted, his eyes closing and hiding the burning look in the process. Harry was immensely grateful for the distraction and took the opportunity to focus on searching through his belongings.

“Not books, usually?”  Draco inquired, leaning to rest his hip against a shelf as he smirked.

“Not usually. Why, you interested?” Harry grinned up at Draco and felt immensely pleased with himself at the redness coating the blond’s normally pale cheekbones. “Anyway, I think I have something that you’ll find  _ captivating,” _

“In that bag of yours? I highly doubt that,” Draco scoffed, turning his face away. Harry took his moment of inattention to grasp the delicate silky folds of his invisibility cloak and gently tug it out of the depths of his pack, just barely refraining from spilling half the contents out onto the floor along with it.

“Oh? Then what do you think of this?” Harry asked, smiling triumphantly as he presented the invisibility cloak that had belonged to his father to the Slytherin.

Glancing back around, Draco’s face did a strange sort of twitch as he eyed the cloth warily.

“I think it could benefit from a few tailoring and cleaning charms,”

“You think so?” Harry asked, amused. “Would you like to try it on?”

“No, thank you. You’re even more insane than I had originally thought, Potty, if you think that I would willingly cover myself with that ghastly thing.”

“Your loss, then,” Harry shrugged, pulling the cloak and hood over himself and purposely taking a few quiet steps away to the right. He had to cover his mouth to stifle the laughter that threatened to bubble up as he watched Draco’s eyes widen in disbelief as he pushed off the shelf and reached a hand out to where Harry was standing, his white-blond eyebrows nearly raised into his hairline.

“Potter!” Draco hissed quietly, grey eyes darting back and forth. “Where the fuck are you?”

Being mindful of his steps, Harry slowly walked up behind Draco and leaned in as close as he dared to whisper, “Still think it’s ghastly?” His cheeks were starting to hurt from how widely he was smiling, and watching the Slytherin nearly jump out of his skin as he twisted around nearly did Harry in. Harry pulled the cloak off and held it out to Draco again, almost certain that his lips were going to get stuck in place if he couldn’t control his expression anytime soon. “And my name is Harry, you stubborn prat,”

“I will never call you anything other than Potty, just so you know,” Draco said, his eyes riveted on the folds of the cloak, the candlelight making the material shimmer dully. “Where did you get this?”

“It belonged to my father,” Harry answered quietly. He cleared his throat. “I used this to sneak into the library. I figured we could use it to sneak back out,”

“Why would you use it to sneak in, when I was able to walk in without so much as a second glance?”

Harry shrugged, grin still on his face. “Maybe because sneaking around is more fun,”

“Of course you’d think so,” Draco muttered, but stepped nonetheless closer to Harry as he spread the folds of the cloak out, twisting it around to envelop both of them. Draco stared in fascination down at his hands, pushing them through the opening and pulling them back through.

Chuckling quietly, Harry pulled the hood up to cover both their heads and whispered, “it doesn’t silence anything, so we’ll have to be quiet and make sure we keep our shoes covered. Other than that, it should be no problem,”

Draco seemed to take a shaky breath as he nodded, glancing over at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Taking that as confirmation, Harry slowly crept forward, keeping an eye out for other students as they exited the shelves. 

They passed through the doors of the library without pause, and Harry led them towards one of the nearby alcoves. So focused on where he was leading them, and trying very hard not to notice how warm Draco was walking so close beside him, Harry flinched when he felt his arm being suddenly grasped and squeezed. Glancing over at Draco quickly, Harry saw that his eyes were focused dead ahead, his movements more stiff. 

Confused, Harry followed his eyes and nearly tripped over his own feet as he saw Professor Moody talking to Professor McGonagall, his normal eye trained on her, and his magical eye staring right at them. 

Reaching up and squeezing Draco’s forearm in warning, Harry swerved them towards the opposite direction and down a different corridor, trying to get as far away from Moody’s magical eye as possible.

Dread curled in Harry’s gut when he remembered that Moody still had his map, so he just walked along as carefully as he could to try keeping his obvious avoidance from appearing too suspicious. 

Once they were as safely out of the way as Harry could manage, he tugged Draco into a different alcove and pulled the cloak off swiftly, stuffing it into his bag again.

“Moody saw us,” Draco said, voice low.

“I know,” Harry shook his head, uncomfortable.

“How did he see us? That cloak of yours made us completely invisible,”

“I don’t know. Apparently his magical eye can see through invisibility cloaks as well,”

“I don’t like this,” Draco stated, eyes unfocused as he looked down the hall.

“I’m not very comfortable with it either,” Harry admitted, shrugging. “All the more reason for me to get my map back from him,”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Maybe I can just ask him, without seeming too suspicious, and just tell him that I want my map back because it’s sentimental?”

“Do you honestly think that would work?” Draco’s skeptically raised eyebrow was probably deserved, Harry thought, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying.

“Do you expect he’ll tell me no, when it belongs to me? It’s a much better plan than breaking into his rooms and stealing it,” Harry pointed out helpfully.

Draco sighed, seemingly dropping the line of questioning for now when he asked, “Has he still been bugging you about the tournament?”

“Hm, not recently, no,” Harry mused. “Oh! I did want to speak to Fred and George about the task, though. See if they’ve been able to come up with anything yet,”

“They’ve a few ideas, but nothing fully developed yet. They still need to do more testing, but assured me that it would be done by Monday,” Draco replied, watching Harry’s reaction carefully. When Harry only raised an eyebrow in question, he seemed to relax slightly, letting out a quiet breath that Harry didn’t even notice he was holding. 

“They approached me yesterday at dinner,” he explained, lips curling up into a smirk, “since I’m obviously much more talented at potions than you are,”

“Of course,” Harry snorted in amusement, reveling in the sudden warmth dissipating the thick cloud of apprehension brought on by the subject of Mad-Eye Moody. Adjusting the strap of his bag, Harry looked at Draco and smiled, grateful for the twitching of lips he got in return. 

“Well, if the twins are confident that they’ll have the answer by Monday, then that means that you have the rest of today and all of tomorrow to test me on magical water creatures and plants and whatever else your heart desires,” Harry joked, walking towards the Great Hall for lunch with Draco right behind him.

“You’d better bet your life on it, Potty. I’ll ruin you for every other elemental magical creature and being from the information I’m about to force into your head,” Draco announced pompously, causing Harry to laugh loudly down the empty corridor.


End file.
